


My Only Hope

by libertyelyot



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: ALL THE GOOD THINGS, Angst, Darkness, F/M, Good bad things, I will try to make you shiver, kinky fuckery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2016-03-07
Packaged: 2018-05-10 01:27:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 75,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5563426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/libertyelyot/pseuds/libertyelyot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brilliant young code-cracker Marillia Rome is on a covert mission to sabotage the Starkiller Base before it can be put to its devastating use. Her plans to keep a low profile on her intelligence gathering quest are put into immediate jeopardy when she is promoted to work alongside General Hux himself. Being noticed by him is the last thing she wants. Or so she thinks. *Takes place two years before the events of The Force Awakens*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I'm not massively versed in Star Wars canon and lore; I'm basically inspired by how damn fine Domhnall Gleeson looks in that big coat. Anyone who happens to agree with me might want to come along for this ride.

I had known, of course, that the planet was made of ice, but all the same I couldn’t help wishing the First Order had chosen somewhere more temperate for their base. As I tramped through the snow, wincing at its cutting chill on my face, I thought of my home planet, Kusa B – of its crystal blue lagoons, its lush green jungle, its wine groves and terraces of juicy olivets. But Kusa B wasn’t a planet that would suit the First Order: civilised, artistic, social, measuredly hedonistic – it was everything the First Order was not. On second thought, this blizzard-blasted dead zone was perfect for them. A tear of nostalgia froze in my eye, and I followed our guides towards the mouth of Starkiller Base.

 

“New recruits?” The stormtrooper-on-duty scanned us in and we walked on, relieved to be out of that bitter cold, but still tight-throated with apprehension. None of us knew what to expect of our new posting; Starkiller Base, although now nearing completion, had been veiled in extreme secrecy since work on it had begun some half dozen years previously. Even now, there were many in the surrounding galaxies who laughed off any mention of it as a myth or a rumour. Nobody really wanted to believe that the First Order were anything other than a ragbag of wild-eyed fanatics. Blind eyes had been turned, the successes of the Republic talked up, in bars and meeting houses across the cosmos. That fatal optimism was about to be punished in full measure, unless serious steps were taken.

 

Why, I wondered, over and over again in the long sleepless hours leading up to my posting, did it have to be me that took them?

 

We hadn’t intended to march along, my three fellow recruits and I, but somehow the pace of this place seemed to be a brisk military one-two and we fell into step with our stormtrooper guides almost unconsciously, our snowboots failing to make the same impressive sound as their metallic footwear. As we stomped along, we gave free rein to our curiosity. Our eyes wandered everywhere, taking in the vast spaces, the sleek darkness, the polish and precision of our surroundings. It was noisy, too – the routine clangour of building work mixed with alarms and drilling troops and the revving of tie-fighter engines to create a dire cacophony. I was glad I hadn’t pursued a more mechanical calling. Life in the command centre would be substantially better for the eardrums.

 

An elevator ride took us away from the din, into a stratosphere of lowlit hush. Here, the stormtroopers patrolled in pairs, their marching step muffled by the rubberised flooring. I concentrated on memorising the route we took through the warren of corridors, but it was impressively complex and I felt my mind fuzz shortly before we were shown, without comment, into a small antechamber.

 

The stormtroop guard left us alone to find places along a low black leather banquette.

 

“Well, here we are then.”

 

The immortal insight was uttered by Jek Marbel, a credulous idiot who had been in my year at the Technical Institute on Zyron. Credulous idiot though he was, he had a gift for multi-dimensional design, which was what had brought him to the notice of the First Order. That, and his monomaniacal devotion to their ‘cause’. I had met the other two only in passing, during the mandatory year of military training before placement. One woman, perhaps a year or two older than me, and a man in early middle age.

 

“Here we are indeed,” said the middle-aged man, nodding. “I don’t know about you, but I almost feel I’m in a dream. Rath Wybone, by the way. From the Cradle of Wex.”

 

We all muttered greetings as a hospitality droid whirred in, bearing a tray of drinks and some kind of twig-like foodstuff in a large bowl. The drink was iced water – plentiful around here, I guessed – flavoured with boneroot syrup. Not a favourite of mine, but it would have to do. A fleeting sense memory of Kusani wine, the way the bubbles burst against the palate, made me grimace at the unappetising brew.

 

“What’s your posting, Rath?” asked the other woman politely, though I could see that none of us really cared.

 

“I’m a financial analyst,” he said, puffing his chest a little. “The First Order are keen to diversify their revenue streams. I’m here to facilitate that.”

 

“Right,” I said, trying not to yawn. “So we’re all administrative people here? Not military?”

 

“I’m the new quartermistress,” said the other woman. “Laki Meis. You’ll be coming to me for your uniforms, when they’re issued.”

 

It sounded like the sort of role that could be delegated to a stormtrooper or a droid, but I didn’t voice the thought. No point gaining a reputation for being rude straight away.

 

“And I’m Jek Marbel,” said Idiot Boy. “Multi-dimensional design. I’m hoping to make my mark on this place, literally. A footnote in the history tablets. As for you, Marillia, I suppose you’ll be on the code bank. This is Marillia Rome, by the way. We were at Zyron together.”

 

I was irritated by Jek’s presumption in introducing me to the others, but I kept it to myself. My brief was to show no sign of character or personality. Nothing that could be interpreted, nothing that could be construed as a strength or a weakness. It would be safer that way.

 

“Yeah, the code bank is my home for the foreseeable future,” I said.

 

“What’s the code bank?” asked Laki.

 

“Intelligence,” I said. It was enough to impress them into silence.

 

“Did you hear that there were Knights of Ren here?” asked Jek eagerly, breaking it.

 

“Darth Vader’s grandson, I heard,” said Laki. “The great Sith himself.”

 

“Wow, just to think of it,” said Jek. “His flesh and blood. Right here. Maybe in the next chamber.”

 

Their moment of communal idolatry was interrupted by a very tall soldier in armour that marked them out as several cuts above the average stormtrooper. A burnished, silver mask covered the face, and the body was swathed in a black silk cloak. When the newcomer spoke, the voice was surprisingly female. I don’t know why I had assumed the Order’s army was primarily male, but now I was ashamed to have done so.

 

“Which of you is Marillia Rome?” she asked.

 

Jek was pointing at me before I could even identify myself.

 

“I’ll need you to accompany me, please,” she said. “There’s an irregularity in your papers. It will have to be cleared with Sentient Resources.”

 

I felt a hot clutching sensation in my chest. An irregularity in my papers? Had they discovered what happened to my parents? I tried to keep the level head I was known for, but my legs felt weak as I rose to my feet.

 

Once the silver-clad soldier had led me outside into the corridor, she waited for the door to shush shut behind us before she spoke again, in a lower and more confidential tone this time.

 

“I’m Captain Phasma,” she said. “And I must reassure you straight away that there is no irregularity in your papers. That was a pretext to get you away from the others before you were shown to your quarters.”

 

“Oh,” I said, working on keeping the tremor of relief from my words. “Why would you want to do that?”

 

“We didn’t want them to know that you are going to be accommodated on a higher echelon than them,” she said. Meanwhile, my mind – almost independently of me – began its monotonous recording of our route. Left, right, right again, up a ramp…

 

“A higher echelon?” I echoed, as she swept across a rather alarming catwalk over a great chasm.

 

“Yes,” she said. “Your abilities have been highly praised by our contacts at the Institute. As a result, it was decided that you should be promoted above entry level. You’ll be working on the Senior Deck, directly under General Hux himself.” She turned, apparently questioning my lack of reaction to this news. “It’s an honour,” she said, somewhat sharply.

 

“Oh, er, yes, I’m sure it is. I’m…surprised, that’s all.”

 

Surprised and dismayed. I had planned to remain as far under the radar as possible. As an ensign, I had expected to be stuck in some dark cupboard next to the boiler room, number crunching the days away with a group of fellow oddballs. No cock-ups, no brilliant feats, no attention from the Order’s top brass. But if I was working right there on the Senior Deck with Hux…ugh. I would have to think about it later. For now, the statuesque female trooper expected something like conversation.

 

“Well, enjoy the status,” she advised. “You’ll get your own quarters – that’s why we’ve kept you separate from the other three. Jealousy. Everyone here in the First Order is ambitious – that’s why they’re here. But not all of them have the ability to achieve their ambitions. Those that fail don’t stay long.”

 

“Where do they go?” I asked, though I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear the answer.

 

Phasma cocked her silver-masked head.

 

“Why would you care?” she replied. She led us into a sort of cul de sac, with a quartet of doors at its end.

 

“Well, this is your new home,” she said, pressing a pad next to one of them. “Security will fix the fingerprint recognition later.”

 

I followed her into my quarters. A step up from the usual ensign billet they might have been, but they were still far from luxurious. A small rounded living area housed a curved leather sofa, a low table and an entertainment system on the wall. In one corner, a dried out plant drooped. Through an archway a wet room was located, and a door to its side led into a little bedpod. It was all windowless, lit with a low ultra-violetish glow.

 

“Your belongings are on their way over from the shuttle,” said Phasma gruffly, turning to leave. “A droid will bring supper. You will present yourself at Sentient Resources tomorrow morning at eight o’clock sharp – the map and all information that you need can be found on the wall-mounted computer. Good evening, Cadet Rome, and welcome to the Order.”

 

What a welcome, I thought, sinking back on to the leather sofa. It could hardly be described as warm. Of course, I hadn’t expected feasting and slaps on the back, but all the same… I covered my face with my hands, remembering Phasma’s words about my new role. This was certainly potentially problematic. Would it be possible to maintain a low profile when I was placed with the foremost coding brains of the Order?

 

The important thing was to stay calm. People had been telling me I was level-headed and analytical since I was knee-high. Now was the time to prove it. I had been waiting for this posting for six years, training for it for two. I was in a unique position – and if I used it wisely, I could change intergalactic history for the better.

 

“I’m here,” I said to myself. “I’m where I’m meant to be.”

 

But oh! For the chance to send just a few lines of code to Katari, explaining the new circumstances. Alas, it was going to have to wait, at least until my first leave of remission, six months away. I began rehearsing what I would write in my journal, outlining every detail of Starkiller Base I could glean, going over and over all the impressions that had stuck in my mind.

 

Much later, after my belongings had arrived and I had written the journal entry, I lay in my narrow bed, remembering my first meeting with Katari. I had been walking across campus, one year into my time at the Technical Institute, on my way to a Leisure Session. I was eager to get to it – it was a module on ancient music of the eastern solar systems – but Katari caught up with me, waving a handful of etching styli.

 

“Are these yours?” I was a little stunned to be approached by her – she was a research graduate, at least ten years my senior. Such exalted types never spoke to lowly sixteen year olds from the Junior Wing.

 

“I, uh, no, I don’t think so.”

 

“Are you sure? Only…you’re Marillia Rome, aren’t you?”

 

She’d _heard_ of me? Now this was really heading into surreal territory.

 

“Yes, that’s me.”

 

“Good. I’ve heard about you. You’ve already made a reputation for yourself as one of the Institute’s most promising students.”

 

“Have I?”

 

“Oh yes. And…” She dropped her voice and put a hand on my arm. “I heard about your parents.”

 

This wasn’t good. I felt the heat rush into my cheeks and a strangling sensation in my throat.

 

“You…how did you…?”

 

“Will you come to the Rec Space with me? I really need to talk to you.”

 

In the Rec Space, I had managed to compose myself. The half pint of bitterbean brew helped.

 

“Professor Tarkei,” she said, once we knew there was no chance of being overheard. “He knows about your parents.”

 

“Who told him?” I demanded in a harsh whisper.

 

“He’s…he knows people,” Katari evaded. “Listen, Marillia, forgive me for bringing it up. It must be upsetting for you.”

 

“Well, of course it is…”

 

“But I might be able to offer you a way to find them.”

 

“What? To find my parents? How? Where are they? Do you know?”

 

“We think,” she said, her eyes darting around the room to make sure there was no threat of interruption, “that they were taken to a small planet in the Ustron system. All of those people who were abducted in those years were taken there.”

 

“So they weren’t killed? Why? Why were they taken there?”

 

“To undergo a brainwashing programme. You know about the First Order?”

 

“Of course I do,” I said, a little more loudly than was wise. But really, did she need to ask? It was all anybody talked about these days.

 

“The First Order are wiping their memories, then reconditioning their minds to make them their soldiers. Stormtroopers. Just like in the Empire days – except the Empire version were volunteers.”

 

“You are…you’re shitting me, right? This isn’t funny. This isn’t…” I broke off, angry tears blocking my ability to articulate.

 

“Come with me to Professor Tarkei’s chambers tonight. He will explain it better than I can. But I swear to you, I am telling you what I know to be true.”

 

So I went to Professor Tarkei, and he was able to convince me that the preposterous story had plenty of evidential weight behind it. The terrorist gang who had shot up my village four years earlier and taken my parents away while I hid, terrified, in the caves behind the waterfall had been a nascent First Order group, looking for manpower for their lousy new regime.

 

Tarkei was a leading figure in the new resistance movement, coming together in shadow to fight the growing power of the new order. He had had intelligence that the group was developing and building a horrifying new weapon, capable of eliminating entire star systems. The Order would grow quickly, take no prisoners and aim to establish intergalactic rule by fear.

 

“The thing is, Marillia,” said Tarkei softly, “and I’m aware it’s a completely unreasonable thing to ask of you…but we could really use some people of ours in there. Coders. Intelligence gatherers.”

 

“Spies,” I blurted. “And you want me…?”

 

“Nothing will happen overnight,” said Tarkei. “And it’s important that you don’t approach the Order – they must approach you, in order to eliminate any suspicion that you might be a plant. But we know they tend to put their feelers out to those best and brightest students approaching graduation. They won’t come to you until you’re twenty at least. So you have four years to think about it. But please do think about it, Marillia. Don’t give me your decision – have nothing more to do with me now. Liaise with Katari here, discreetly and not too frequently, if you want to talk things over. But when they come to you – and I think they will come to you – I want you to be sure, to be strong-minded and to be prepared. Will you at least think about it?”

 

I thought about it. And when one of the growing band of Order sympathisers about campus came to me after Coding Lab one winter night four years later, I said I was interested.

 

I graduated top of my year and went straight into twelve months of basic military training in a mountainous hole somewhere west of Hoth. I’d had four years to be angry about my parents, four years to hate the First Order, four years to hone my skills and plot my mission.

 

I was ready.

 

 


	2. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, I've made the General's age 30, but I read somewhere last night that he was meant to be 28. Sorry about that. Anyway, on we go...

The first day of the orientation process was so fast-paced and information-overloaded that I barely had time to gather my thoughts. We were marched across walkways and barked at by jumped-up metalheads from sunrise to sunset, stopping only to take scheduled refreshment breaks. During these, I tended to stay out of the overawed conversations the other three enjoyed. I didn’t care what they thought of it all. I was too occupied with setting my own impressions into some kind of order.

 

Starkiller Base was first and foremost a machine of war, and it showed. Its systems were sophisticated, and I could see straight away that I was going to have my work cut out in trying to master them. But it should be easier from Senior Deck, where I assumed I would have greater access to them than a simple ensign would.

 

There were few concessions to the fact that a human population lived here. The Recreation Hubs – one for lower level staff and one for Senior Deckers and above – were small and mostly given over to gym facilities. Each one had a designated area for socialising, with screens showing the big sports fixtures and the occasional movie. You could drink here, but it was made very clear to us that we would be expected to limit our intake of anything stronger than boneroot syrup. Drunkenness was a category 3 breach of discipline.

 

At the end of day one, the other three recruits invited me to join them in the ensigns’ Rec, but I was told by our induction guide that this would not be possible.

 

“Senior Deck staff are not to mingle socially with their inferiors,” he said, causing Rath, Laki and Jek to gawp at me. “You will take your recreation with your peers.”

 

With that, we were dismissed, and I made sure I got clean away from the other three before they could quiz me on my apparent exalted status.

 

Another evening was spent updating my journal, trying to ignore the growing knot of apprehension in my stomach about tomorrow’s portion of the orientation – my first day on the Senior Deck.

 

I presented myself after the breakfast hour, having to show my ID five times at different checkpoints before reaching the inner sanctum of the base, despite the fact that I was being escorted by Captain Phasma.

 

“How many personnel work on Senior Deck?” I asked her, slightly unnerved by her stoic silver mask of silence.

 

“Forty six,” she said. “But that doesn’t include General Hux himself, or those high-status personnel who have clearance to come on deck.”

 

“Are there many of those?” I asked.

 

“Myself and Kylo Ren,” she replied shortly. So it was true about Darth Vader’s grandson being here. Fascinating.

 

“And is General Hux…” I tailed off. I’d been wanting to ask if he was where the buck stopped when it came to the First Order, but I realised in time that that sounded like fishing. I’d find out in due course, without having to come across like a snooper. “What is he like?” I amended. “To work for, I mean?”

 

Phasma hesitated. “It is better that I leave that for you to decide,” she said. “Like any good general, he demands high standards of his staff. Very high standards. If I can give you one piece of advice, it is to obey his orders without question.”

 

_Even if they are bad orders?_

 

I managed to keep the query unspoken. I knew from my military training that the Order liked to screen out any applicants who showed too much imagination, or a highly developed moral sense. All those awful propaganda lectures we’d had to sit through, day after day… They’d better have been worth it.

 

So General Hux didn’t like to be challenged. Fair enough. It was good intel. I’d make sure to limit my communications with him to a toneless ‘Yes, Sir’.

 

“Here we are,” said Phasma. “The Senior Deck. I’ll show you to your bank.”

 

The deck was huge and wide, and gave the impression of continuing on past its flanks of desks into the infinity of space, as it ended in a vast floor-to-ceiling window that looked out on to the closest star systems. The glass magnified them so that they seemed much closer than they were, and I was too transfixed by the sight to pay much attention to the workstations or the people at them until Phasma pulled up abruptly at one of the rows.

 

“Rybor, this is your new colleague, Marillia Rome. Cadet Rome, this is Qar Rybor, to whom you will be answerable on a day-to-day basis. I will leave you to get acquainted.”

 

Phasma left me standing before my new boss, unsure of what the protocol was amongst coders. Were we on the kind of formal footing that demanded salutes? Or would a handshake be acceptable?

 

Fortunately Rybor made this clear by extending his hand. He was a man in his late forties, or even fifties, grey-haired and red-faced, noticeably less lean and soldierly than those around us.

 

“Welcome to the centre of the universe,” he said, looking me up and down. “They said you were young, but they didn’t say how young. Fresh out of college, by the looks of you.”

 

“I’m twenty two,” I said. “Graduated from Zyron a year ago, went straight to the training camp.”

 

“Zyron, eh? I’m a Megacillia man myself. Well, take a seat at that console over there and I’ll give you a walk though.”

 

With much huffing and coughing and laboured breathing, Rybor familiarised me with the Deck’s computer systems and the various types of coding software I would be using. The deck was very dark so that all that was really visible were the computer displays and the stars hanging in the sky just beyond us. The faces of my colleagues were too shadowy to discern much beyond the fact of their having them, and I couldn’t see any sign of the General.

 

“Is General Hux here?” I asked, peering into the flickering gloom during a lull in instructions.

 

“Not just now,” said Rybor. “Can’t you tell from the way everyone’s behaving? It’s a regular party atmosphere in here, right?”

 

“Er, no,” I said, looking around me. All I could make out was a kind of mass fierce concentration emanating from the very pores of the deck. Nobody was away from their desk and nobody was looking anywhere but at their console.

 

“Hm, that’s the joke,” said Rybor. “While the cat’s away, the mice will play. Not this cat. Not these mice.”

 

“He’s got everyone in the palm of his hand?”

 

“More like his hand at everyone’s throat,” said Rybor, but it was a whisper this time. An uneasy shiver crept down the back of my neck. But it was OK. I could do automaton. In some ways it came pretty easily to me. I’d sit at my desk and code, code, code the livelong day. I’d give this General nothing at all to latch on to, let alone offer him my throat to squeeze.

 

“So where is he?” I whispered back.

 

“In a meeting. He’ll be back any time now, I should think. Make sure you look busy. Make sure you make _me_ look busy.”

 

This wasn’t hard to achieve. I had a lot to learn, as quickly as I possibly could. I joined my other colleagues at the bank – two youngish guys and a woman of about thirty, to whom I had been only cursorily introduced – in their intense effort of focus.

 

The next time I came up for air, about half an hour later, everyone continued to be so unnaturally busy and quiet that the smallest movement seemed huge. A flicker of motion on the row in front barged into my peripheral vision– something that stood out in the darkness. Pale skin and vivid red hair.

 

I turned to make out what had attracted my attention, and experienced a feeling that had only struck me once before in my twenty two years of life.

 

_My stars, who is that?_

 

Unused as I was to the sensation of sudden and strong attraction to a member of the opposite sex, I almost jabbed Rybor with my elbow to ask the question. But Rybor was glazed over, his gaze fixed to his screen, twitching mildly.

 

I returned my fascinated stare to the man leaning over the console, in oblique profile. He was beautiful - there was no other way to describe him. The high cheekbones, the full lips, the tall, lean figure reminded me of the dashing knights and princes in my childhood storybooks, but with something underneath, something much more shockingly, dangerously sensual than anything Prince Fain and his ilk could ever offer. My mouth was dry and I noticed, with a kind of detached surprise, that my hands were shaking.

 

What did the First Order do about sex, I wondered suddenly. Was it frowned upon? Or would we…could we…? I would have to refresh my memory on the Disciplinary Code.

 

Somewhere in the foggy depths of my stunned consciousness, I realised that Rybor had disconnected from his communion with the console and was watching me.

 

“You’ve noticed our other new boy, then?” he said.

 

“What? He’s new here too?”

 

“I believe so. Actually, I need to talk to him. Can you go and ask him what’s keeping him so damned long with my key clearance?”

 

“Key clearance?”

 

“Yeah, I think he’s with security. Go and put a rocket up his ass for me. I’ve been waiting three hours now.”

 

“I…you want me to…?”

 

I couldn’t actually speak to him, surely. The words would turn to stones in my mouth. My palms would pour sweat on to the rubber flooring. On to his boots. His shiny, shiny boots. Oh lord.

 

“We could call it an order,” said Rybor lightly.

 

“Rybor.” My female colleague sounded reproachful, almost shocked.

 

“Ah, mind your own business, Leva,” he retorted, leaning over to me. “Go on then.”

 

I saw, as I rose unsteadily, a look exchanged between the two youngish guys on the team. It was an eloquent look, but I couldn’t quite work out if it was of amazement, amusement, excitement or what.

 

_Key clearance_ , I tutored myself. _You’re going to ask, politely and professionally, about Rybor’s key clearance, that’s all._

My mouth was open, ready to speak, and I was within a few feet of this extraordinary vision when he straightened up and I noticed, for the first time, and to my absolute horror, the ranking bands on his lower right sleeve.

 

I stopped dead, my bunched fists held up to my mouth, wanting to run but unable to move.

 

_Please don’t look at me, please don’t notice me._

But he turned to face me, frowning in surprise to see me there. I recovered my composure just enough to lurch into a clumsy salute as I backed away, towards the safety of the coding bank.

 

“Who might you be?” he asked, narrowing his eyes until they were icy blue chips.

 

“Cadet Marillia Rome, Sir. New recruit on the coding bank, Sir.”

 

“Ah. And why are you out of your station?”

 

“I…don’t know, Sir.” Not the smartest riposte, but I was about as discombobulated as I’d ever been. It was impossible. He couldn’t be the General. He just couldn’t. Generals were desiccated old guys covered in medal ribbons. They didn’t look like this.

 

“You don’t know?” He raised an eyebrow, leaning in slightly towards me, looking me up and down in a way that made me want to both run away from and towards him. “Then I suggest Rybor isn’t training you effectively enough. Get back to your station, Cadet, and don’t let me see you out of it until your scheduled break time.”

 

“Yes, sir.” I collapsed back into my chair and watched miserably as he turned and took himself away to another section of the Deck. “Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.” I lowered my forehead to the console, willing the burning to recede from my face.

 

“That was a mean trick to play, Rybor,” said Leva, somewhere above and outside my bubble of shame.

 

“Call it an initiation ceremony,” said Rybor. “They don’t let us have any fun with our recruits any more.”

 

“How could you do that?” I wailed, sitting up again. “How could you? He thinks I’m a gibbering fool now.”

 

“Ach, get over it,” said Rybor, shrugging and turning back to his work.

 

And that was all that was said, until I went to the Atrium at break time with Leva.

 

“I’m sorry about Rybor,” she said, collecting our drinks from the hatch. “It’s insecurity.”

 

“Insecurity?”

 

“Yes. He’s not doing well at the moment – a run of bad luck, but we aren’t meant to believe in luck here in the Order, and the General certainly doesn’t. I suspect he might not be with us much longer. He probably thinks you’ve been drafted in to ease his firing. He wanted to make you look stupid in front of the General. But, if it’s any consolation, the General seems to be wise to his game. You won’t be blamed for it.”

 

“You think Rybor’s going to get the push? Really?”

 

“Really. He doesn’t handle stress well. He’s turning to drink. We all know he hacked a hospitality droid to get him extra wine from the stores every night – if that comes out, he’s done for.”

 

“Yikes. But the…the General.” I felt weirdly shy about saying the word, as if it would summon a bright pink blush to my cheeks, which it actually probably did. “How is he a General? What is he, twenty seven, twenty eight?”

 

Leva laughed, sipping her boneroot tea.

 

“He celebrated his thirtieth birthday recently,” she said. “But yes, he is young, for such a high-ranking officer.”

 

“So what, did he join the army straight from his mother’s breast?”

 

Leva laughed again, but she looked a little scandalised. “He knows how to run a tight ship, and how to impress our great leader. I doubt there’s any more to it than that.”

 

“Oh, our great leader. Right. You know, it’s funny, but nobody really mentioned him at the training camp. Do you ever get to see him?”

 

“No, only the very highest of the Order can have an audience with Snoke. We can only live in hope that we might achieve that level,” she said, rather piously. I would have to tread carefully with this one; it seemed she was fully indoctrinated.

 

I drank deep of my iced water, reliving with a mortified shudder the exact way General Hux had looked at me. What a wretched first impression to make – especially when I had hoped to make no impression at all. And how dared he be so attractive when he was obviously some kind of evil fanatic, bent on the destruction of anything good and right? I was horrified with myself for finding him so fascinating. I was going to have to throw a jug of cold water over my head at the earliest opportunity.

 

A change of subject was in order, but Leva spoke again.

 

“Our glorious leader is a great believer in the power of youth. A man like General Hux is at the peak of his powers, both physical and intellectual. At thirty five, he will retire from active service and take a role on the high council. It is how things are done here.”

 

“At thirty five, eh?” So the First Order practised a kind of cult of youth. Well, the rapid climb to the highest military rank made some sense in the light of that.

 

“Yes. He must make the most of the next five years.” She paused, sipping delicately at her drink, eyeing me in a way that combined speculation and amusement. “It struck me earlier that you might find him attractive.”

 

“Me?” I took refuge behind the rim of my glass. “No, no. Why would you think that?”

 

“The way you looked at him. You would not be the first.”

 

“I don’t think I’m stupid enough to imagine he would look at me, Leva. Even if I was interested. Which I’m not.”

 

“Good. He has no taste for cadets aiming to sleep their way to high rank.”

 

“Have people tried it, then?”

 

“Too many. None of them remain on the Senior Deck for long.”

 

“Are relationships between colleagues frowned upon?”

 

“No, as long as they don’t become a distraction. But men of the General’s rank are allowed…an outlet.”

 

What the hell did she mean by that?

 

“An outlet?”

 

She shifted her eyes towards the next table.

 

“It’s gossip,” she said. “Forget I mentioned it.”

 

“No, you can’t leave me hanging like that,” I said.

 

“Well, OK.” She dropped her voice. “They have…I guess you could call them…evening companions.”

 

“Concubines?”

 

“In a way. Look, I don’t know too much about it. Just that it happens. They come in here sometimes.”

 

“The concubines?” I shuddered slightly. I came from a planet where such practices were utterly unheard of, condemned to an unenlightened past. Was that where we were heading again, if the Order couldn’t be stopped?

 

“It makes sense really,” said Leva, but she had that air of needing to convince herself. “I mean, frustration…of any kind…can impede focus.”

 

“Where do they come from?”

 

“Oh, they volunteer for it,” said Leva, a little more enthusiastically. “Believe me. They sign up for it when they leave college.”

 

“Nobody asked me to be one,” I said, laughing now, relieved that there was no element of coercion involved.

 

“Your skills lie in a different area,” she laughed back. “As do mine, thank goodness. It certainly isn’t a life I would choose.”

 

Neither would I. Although, if my allotted officer was General Hux…I swallowed down the thought, casting around for another to take its place.

 

“This is the least atmospheric bar I’ve ever been in,” I said, looking around at its functional grey and black décor. The small groups of people drinking at tables spoke in low voices and rarely seemed to smile. “And this is the Senior version. What must it be like for the Lower Deck? Or the…the Stormtroopers.”

 

Leva looked at me with astonishment.

 

“Stormtroopers don’t have a bar, of course,” she said.

 

“Don’t they? Why not? They’re humans…humanoid…aren’t they?” I kept my fingers wrapped tight, my nails digging into my palms. I mustn’t sound angry. I mustn’t sound emotional.

 

“They have gym facilities, and they have bunks. They’re soldiers. They don’t need social lives.”

 

“General Hux is a soldier,” I pointed out.

 

“It isn’t the same. Stormtroopers are not like people, Marillia. But of course, you haven’t been here long enough to understand that.”

 

“Then perhaps you can explain.”

 

“They don’t have names. They don’t have imaginations. They don’t have families.”

 

Lord, this was hard. I could feel some kind of explosion building up from the space beneath my ribcage.

 

“If they don’t have families,” I said, struggling to keep my voice level, “where do they come from?”

 

“Well, they _had_ families,” she conceded. “But when they come to us, their memories are wiped clean of all that. They are trained to be fighting machines, and that’s what they are.”

 

_And that’s OK with you?_

 

The question had to stay inside. If it was OK with her, it had to appear to be OK with me. That was the game.

 

“I see,” I said. “Right. I didn’t know that. So, obviously, they aren’t what you’d call party animals.”

 

She laughed. “Not as such. Oh, there’s one of them!”

 

She jabbed me with her elbow so I nearly spilled my drink. I twisted my neck to follow her gaze, expecting to see a Stormtrooper, given our last words.

 

Instead I saw an impossibly glamorous creature in a gleaming silver sheath, standing at the bar and looking out over us all with an expression of infinite ennui.

 

“Oh, a concubine, you mean,” I said, cottoning on.

 

“Yes, and I think that one is the General’s.”

 

“She is?” The sight of her punctured something inside me and I gave way to an overwhelming sense of deflation. “She’s beautiful.”

 

“Isn’t she?”

 

“But she doesn’t look very happy.”

 

“No,” replied Leva thoughtfully. “I’ve never seen her look happy. Gosh, it’s getting late. I guess we should think about getting back.”

 

I followed her out of the bar, taking one last look at General Hux’s fancy as I passed her. Yes, she was beautiful. But dear lord, I’d never seen sadder eyes in all my life.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! Here's some more of our Starkiller Bae for you :D.

I’d changed my mind about hating the cold. Now, as I took a looping route through the snow around part of the base, I could appreciate its realness. One week submerged in temperature-controlled, artificially-lit, sound-proofed Starkiller had been enough. I sucked in the bitter air with relish, feeling the pain in my lungs as proof that I lived a true and human life.

 

“I’m not a droid,” I muttered to the flakes. “I’m not a computer. I’m not a Stormtrooper.”

 

I flung my arms out and yelled at the top of my voice, “I’m a person!”

 

Sometimes a reminder was needed. I’d been plugged in to my console all week, and when I wasn’t working I was filling in my journal, needing extra hours in the day to fit the vast wealth of information I was gathering. A snatched drink and snack in the Atrium with my coding chums was the sum total of my leisure, bar the compulsory daily hour in the gym. On the plus side, General Hux seemed to have forgotten about our awkward encounter. I was once again beneath his notice. And he did at least make some pretty scenery to enliven the drab Deck.

 

In the last day or so, I’d started to think seriously about hacking into the Sentient Resources database. The thought that they might have information on the Stormtroopers here – information about their provenance and former identities – was enormous. And possibly totally wrong. But if they did…

 

I stopped for a moment, thinking I’d heard something. No, surely just the moaning of the endless wind as it flicked little darts of snow into my face. Or a gull. Or even the echo of my own shout, coming back from the rocky outcrops all around me.

 

I took another step forward, then halted again. It really sounded like…

 

I ran towards the source of the high-pitched noise, which was now very like a woman’s cry of distress. I saw nothing of what could be making it until I stopped short, almost pitching myself head first off a precipitous ledge, hidden by a large bank of snow.

 

Surely nobody could have fallen down there and survived? I peered down, trying to make out anything that wasn’t blindingly white, but then a voice spoke from a short distance to my right.

 

“I’m here, here, damn you, come and help me, please.”

 

The voice seemed to come from a huddle of standing stones. I stumbled over to them and found a woman lying full-length in the snow, wrapped from head to ankle in brilliant white furs – but on her feet she wore delicate silver stilettoes, and these seemed to be the problem.

 

“Lord!” I exclaimed. “Your ankle’s swollen to the size of a house. It could be broken.”

 

“It could be,” she agreed faintly. “Can you help me, please?”

 

She wouldn’t be able to walk – quite apart from the ankle damage, her toes were beginning to turn blue with frostbite. Whatever could have possessed her to come out here in those stupid shoes?

 

“I’m going to have to get help,” I said uncertainly, turning towards the base, which was a good half hour’s walk away.

 

“No,” she said, her face contorting with pain. “No, you can’t. Just…just let me lean on you. I’ll be all right.”

 

I had an elementary first aid kit in my backpack and I used it to bandage the ankle, wrapping the insulated fibre all the way over first one foot, then the other. She needed warmth, and quickly. I was about halfway through this operation when it struck me that I recognised the face in the white fur hood. She was paler and wore no make-up, but surely she was General Hux’s…whatever.

 

“OK, it’s going to be all right,” I said, faking a confidence I didn’t feel. “You and I are going to make it back to base and we’ll get you to the medical centre…sorry, I don’t know your name.”

 

“Tessia,” she said, gasping now. “It doesn’t even hurt any more. It should hurt, shouldn’t it?”

 

“You just need to get warm. If I hold on to you like this, can you try and stand by putting all the weight on your good foot?”

 

“I don’t know,” she said with rising panic. “I can’t feel a thing. But that bandage is helping, I think…or starting to…”

 

It took a while, but eventually the insulated bandage did its stuff and the blood began to circulate in Tessia’s feet again.

 

Painstakingly, we embarked on the slow hobble back to Starkiller Base. It was going to take at least an hour to get there, and the muscles in my face already felt as if they were about to seize up. Perhaps it would help to keep talking.

 

“How did you manage to end up like this?” I asked.

 

“Extreme stupidity,” she muttered.

 

“Well, I didn’t like to say anything, but those shoes…hardly appropriate. Did you leave Starkiller Base in a hurry?”

 

“You could say that.” Her legs buckled and I had to help her back into an upright position. The way the fur coat fell as she stumbled revealed, rather astonishingly, that she wasn’t wearing anything underneath it.

 

“You didn’t plan to come out here?” I hazarded.

 

“No, I didn’t.”

 

“So…?” It felt mean to quiz her, seeing how much pain she was clearly in, but I wanted to make sure she wasn’t about to collapse, and keeping her talking seemed to be the best way.

 

“I was following an order,” she said through gritted teeth.

 

“An order? But aren’t you…?” I tailed off. I hadn’t really wanted her to know I knew who she was, for some reason.

 

She looked at me, her face grey now with suffering.

 

“A whore? Yes.”

 

“Oh, no, I didn’t mean…I mean…I wouldn’t have…”

 

“Don’t,” she said wearily. “I know what you think of me, and I’m not interested.”

 

“I don’t think anything of you.” I coughed furiously, trying to cover my awkwardness. “Anyway, you were ordered to go out in the snow wearing those shoes? What the fuck?”

 

“Yes, that’s what happened.”

 

“But…but that’s awful. Really cruel. Evil.” And disappointing. For some reason I kept catching myself hoping that Hux wasn’t as bad as I thought he was. It was lame-brained of me, but I couldn’t seem to help it.

 

“No it’s not,” she whispered, and I thought a hint of a smile crept across her perfect lips. “You don’t understand.”

 

“Understand? No, of course I don’t. You’re defending him?”

 

“He didn’t mean for me to break my ankle. We’ve done this before. He’ll be waiting for me…he’ll worry about me.”

 

“But…” I couldn’t fathom this at all. “Why did he give this order? I don’t get it.”

 

“No, my dear, you don’t, do you?” The look she turned on me was so knowing it was almost triumphant. It made me deeply uncomfortable. “This is a game we play. I’m on a mission. I have failed in my mission, and soon enough, once my ankle has healed, I will pay the price.”

 

She lowered her lashes, apparently in some sort of rapture.

 

Perhaps this was a good time to stop talking. But Tessia seemed to be in a sharing mood now.

 

“He couldn’t do without me, you know, no matter what he might say. He needs me, every bit as much as I need him.”

 

“And he would be…?”

 

“My master. My General.”

 

“Hux, right?”

 

She repeated his name, in a reverent breath.

 

“Well,” I said, with forced brightness. “In a place like this, we could all do with a friend.”

 

She laughed. “You’re innocent, aren’t you? You don’t want to hear it, or think about it. Well, be careful of these Dark Side boys, my dear. They all like the game, and soon enough, one of them will want to play it with you. If you need any advice, come to me. I owe you, after all.”

 

“Thanks, I’ll, uh, bear it in mind.”

 

She subsided into silence after that, bar the odd pained grunt, and we made the rest of the trudge in silence. It was a relief to dump her at the medical centre and make my way back to my quarters to mull over the encounter.

 

The knowledge that General Hux apparently enjoyed some kind of sado-masochistic game-playing in his private time threw me into even deeper conflict. On the one hand, it made him all the more frightening. And on the other…I don’t know, but I couldn’t seem to sleep for thinking of what he might do, and how he might look doing it, and how it might feel if he did it to me…

 

I did my best to try and school myself out of it. Every day at the coding bank, I made mental affirmations of the _You’re an evil swine_ and _I’d rather get horizontal with a Hutt_ type, but as soon as he swooshed past, all polished and perfectly tailored with an intent look in his eyes, the resolutions would buckle. It was just like the crush on Professor Taxis at Zyron, but worse, because Professor Taxis had been married and therefore definitively unavailable. That knowledge had kept me sane and in control. But Hux…what if he just needed someone to save him? There, I’ve admitted it. ‘Clever’ as I’m supposed to be, this boneheaded hypothesis had infected my brain. Obvious as it was that he was a petty dictator who used women like fetish objects, I couldn’t seem to let it go.

 

After a few days of this madness, I decided that I needed a shag. The first reasonable-looking guy would do. I would go to the Recreation Hub and do my utmost to get laid.

 

A midweek evening wasn’t the best time for it. The population at the bar was sparse – just Rybor and his drinking buddies; a gaggle of technicians playing intergalactic chess like their lives depended on it; and – in the corner – a lone guy brooding silently over a glass of what looked like my home planet’s ripe red wine.

 

He might do. He wasn’t unattractive, with unruly longish dark hair and a big nose. I liked big noses.

 

I took a deep breath and decided to go for it.

 

“You mean they serve Kusani wine here?” I said, stopping by his table and nodding down at the glass.

 

“What?” He looked up sullenly, making it clear that he didn’t seek companionship.

 

There was a weird latent power about him, despite the sulky teenager demeanour. All of a sudden I was very unnerved.

 

“Oh…it doesn’t matter. I’m sorry to disturb you. Just…I’m Kusani, and I’ve been hankering after a glass of my national vino…I’ll leave you in peace.”

 

I backed away, but he arrested my flight with a sudden and rather loud, “Wait!”

 

I stopped, quivering a bit.

 

“Yes?”

 

He looked at me – or more accurately, right into me. It was as if he could read me. I had the unpleasant sensation that he knew what my loyalties were and he meant to hold them against me.

 

“Kusani,” he said, still staring like a basilisk. “We don’t get many of those here. They aren’t the most ardent supporters of our cause.”

 

“No,” I admitted. “All those raids, back in the day. But…I know where my personal interests lie. I can’t get where I want to be on Kusa B. Or anywhere else but here.”

 

“Right,” he said, then, after a pause. “So, what did you want to speak to me about?”

 

Mission absolutely aborted. There was no way I was staying in the beam of this guy’s truth-seeking glare another minute.

 

“Nothing,” I said. “Just shooting the breeze, you know. Oh! Tessia!”

 

I saw her lounging by the bar, watching us with an expression of high amusement. I didn’t know her well, or even like her much, but oh boy, was I glad to see her at that moment. I hurried over to her, giving my non-conquest a panicked wave goodbye.

 

“Interesting company you’re keeping,” she said, sipping vixenishly at a neon-green cocktail.

 

“You know him?”

 

“Don’t you? Our very own Dark Side glamour boy. Kylo Ren.”

 

I spat the Kusani wine I’d just taken from the hospitality droid into a tray of reconstituted olivets.

 

“What? But he’s…”

 

“Did you think the helmet was part of him? No. Underneath it, he’s fully humanoid, just like a regular Stormtrooper.”

 

“Shit,” I said. “His voice sounds different without that thing on.”

 

I took a quick glance back at him, registering too late that his height and build were exactly right for the cloaked weirdo. I hadn’t realised Knights of Ren ever went off duty.

 

“Are you interested in him?” asked Tessia archly.

“No. I mean, he looks all right. My type, even. But obviously, I mean, he’d be way out of my league. Are they even meant to have relationships? Aren’t they celibate, like monks or whatever?”

 

“You should leave well alone,” said Tessia, and coming from the mistress of General Hux, this was quite some advice. “He can’t offer you any kind of future.”

 

“Unlike-,” I began, but then thought better of it. “How’s your ankle?”

 

“Oh, it’s healed,” she said. “It turned out to be just a sprain after all.”

 

“Oh, good. And the frostbite?”

 

“No frostbite. You got to me with the insulated bandages just in time.”

 

“Well, I’m glad. I hope you won’t be taking any more stiletto-shod tours of the ice floes in future.”

 

“That’s hardly up to me,” she said, with the trace of a smile, followed by a heavy sigh.

 

A bleeping broke the awkward silence.

 

“My summons,” she said, in a lower, breathy voice. “I must go.”

 

I watched her leave, the thought that she was going to Hux giving me a strange tightness in my chest. Perhaps tonight was the night she would ‘pay the price’ for falling a-over-t in the snow. As if it was her fault.

 

“Asshole,” I whispered into my wine, deciding after all that I wasn’t in the mood for drinking, or socialising, or throwing myself at random Starkiller Base personnel. My journal was a much more attractive proposition after all.

 

The next day at work, I was in the middle of a low-key bitching session with Rybor over some outdated scripts he was running when something solid and dark materialised in front of my desk. Further investigation revealed it to be the midsection of General Hux, whose dispassionate blue eyes looked down at me from their considerable height like two lightsabre beams in the snow.

 

All my breath did an inconvenient flit from my body. Why was he looking at me? Why was he standing so close? And could he please stop?

 

“Cadet Rome,” he said. He didn’t seem to need confirmation, so I carried on with the gormless rabbit-in-headlights stuff. “A word in private, please.”

 

Oh lord, _what_? _Why_?

 

He gave no clue, turning on his heel and striding away, in the full expectation that I would follow him. I had time only to give Rybor and Leva a shrug of incomprehension before scuttling off in his wake.

 

He led me into a side office, shielded from the general view of the main deck by dark slatted blinds, which he pulled close before seating himself at a giant black desk.

 

I watched as he sat back, steepling his fingers and giving me a look of such frigid appraisal that I began to cast around for a heat source.

 

His far superior rank dictated that I should not address him before he addressed me. However, this frigid appraisal stuff was stretching out beyond the point of endurance, and I could feel broken gibbering welling up inside me.

 

He spoke, praise be, before it erupted.

 

“Is your work important to you, Cadet Rome?” he asked softly.

 

I blinked. “Of course, sir.”

 

“And you find it sufficiently challenging and absorbing?”

 

“Oh yes. Very much so. Sir.”

 

What could he be driving at? Had Kylo Ren said something to him? Had he actually read me in the creepy way I had imagined?

 

“Ah. I was a little concerned there that we weren’t providing enough in the way of intellectual stimulation for your enormous brain. Since you seem to feel the need to occupy yourself with the pursuit of… _interesting…_ extra-mural liaisons.”

 

I flooded with indignant heat. This was about trying to chat up Kylo Ren in the bar. He and Tessia had been discussing me!

 

I could see the enjoyment he was deriving from my embarrassment right through his sneer.

 

“Is it forbidden to speak to fellow Base personnel in the Recreation Hub, sir?” I asked tightly.

 

His cheekbones twitched upwards; the nearest thing to a smile I’d seen from him.

 

“No, of course not,” he said. “But some personnel don’t expect to be approached by cadets. Something for you to remember for the future.”

 

“Yes, sir.” Tension was in the air, and I didn’t know what it meant. I didn’t want to think about it. “Will that be all, sir?”

 

“Something else for you to remember,” he said, placing his palms flat on the table in apparent conciliation. He leant forwards, the sneer now a memory. “My sources tell me that you are an asset to the coding bank. I have had concerns about the level of performance from that quarter for some time, so I this is very heartening news. If there is anything you might need, I hope you might feel able to approach me…personally.”

 

“Personally,” I echoed idiotically.

 

“Yes. Do you think you could do that? I mean…anything.”

 

“Yes, sir,” I breathed. _Please let me go now_.

 

He nodded, releasing me.

 

I went directly to the women’s restroom and sat with my head in my hands for as long as I dared without incurring a time penalty.

 

“ _I mean…anything_.”

 

Had he meant that to sound as nakedly flirtatious as it had? If so, I was in deep trouble here.

 

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

There were certainly many things General Hux could help me with. From:

 

_Where can I find out about the origin of your Stormtroopers?_

_Do you really mean to wipe out entire star systems with this spacebase/murderous weapon hybrid?_

_Why do you want to do that?_

_What’s the relationship between you and Leader Snoke?_

_Do you aim to rule the entire universe?_

Through:

 

_Do you hate Kylo Ren as much as everyone thinks you do?_

_If so, why?_

_Are you going to fire Rybor?_

_How do you feel about Tessia?_

_What is the real nature of your relationship with her?_

To the inevitable:

 

_What would it feel like…? Your hands, your skin, your mouth, your body on mine…?_

And there the questions ended, because I could no longer form coherent thoughts.

 

On the whole, I tried to stop before I reached the last category, but as days went by, I had to stop myself earlier and earlier. I was becoming obsessed.

 

On the Deck, I found myself on permanent alert, just waiting for him to make some kind of move. Day after day, he neither said nor did anything to really justify this, but there was unmistakably _something between us_. It wasn’t tangible, and I doubt anybody else noticed it, but he tended to spend more time in my section of the Deck, often hovering behind my console, just over my shoulder so I could feel his shadow even if I didn’t see it. His unseen proximity made my scalp tingle and my heart thump, and I suspected he knew it.

 

His relationship with Rybor, never good to begin with, worsened to the point of near-harassment. He bombarded the man with demands, questions, criticisms so that Rybor turned more and more to the haven of drunkenness, coming on to the Deck with red-rimmed eyes and sour breath every morning.

 

How long would he wait for me to go to him before he forced my hand? Or was I imagining all this? Had my attraction to him led me to misinterpret our encounter, putting more weight into things than they really had? After all, if Tessia was his type, then I couldn’t be, could I? I was nothing like her. She was statuesque, blonde, flawless and stylish. I was on the short side, with mid-brown hair, kept in as unfussy a cut as possible. I’m not saying I loved the First Order uniform, but it certainly made my life easier, as a woman with too much in the way of boobs and backside and too little in the way of legs. I had never been the kind of girl to get talked about by the testosterone-fuelled frat boys of Zyron. It wasn’t that I had no interest in sex – I’d just been more interested in my studies, and had never gone out to seek a relationship. Besides, my crush on Professor Taxis had more or less ruined me for other men.

 

Until _this_ man.

 

But it was useless. I couldn’t, and wouldn’t, be anything more to him than a workplace underling. I hated everything he stood for, and my mission was the ultimate destruction of his precious Starkiller Base. If he found out, he’d have me killed in a heartbeat.

 

_But would one little kiss be such a terrible mistake? Just so I know how it feels…?_

 

Argh. I couldn’t think it. It was a definite no-go. And I certainly had no interest in tottering around the snow drifts in a fur coat and a pair of heels and nothing else. But what else was he into…?

 

And there it was – the whole giddy carousel of lust and loathing, desire and dread, started up all over again.

 

Tessia was in the Atrium bar one evening about five days after the incident with Hux. She looked bored and lonely, sitting by herself in a black spangled catsuit with her shiny platinum hair in a bun on one side of her head.

 

“You look nice,” I said, taking my drink over to her.

 

She didn’t smile, just lifted her silvery blue rimmed eyes to mine then lowered them to her glass.

 

“You could too,” she said tonelessly. “Why don’t you ever visit the Rejuvenation Centre?”

 

“Because I’ve never heard of it. What is it?”

 

“Oh,” she said, “Of course. Sorry. You have to be an officer, or an officer’s guest.” She put an elegant hand up to the bun, as if making sure it wasn’t about to slide down her head. “Cadets and ensigns must use the one in the central mall.” She shuddered slightly at the proposition. “Functional hair cuts and treatments only.”

 

“That’s probably more my thing,” I said ruefully. “I’ve never understood how to be glamorous. Not like you. You’re like a movie star.”

 

“Thanks,” she said, with a little more warmth, looking at me properly now. “For all the good it does me.”

 

I didn’t dare wonder what she meant by that. Was she talking about life in general or…life with the general?

 

“Oh, I always wanted to be beautiful, as a little girl,” I said, needing to fill the awkward silence. “But I got brains instead.”

 

“You were lucky, believe me. Besides, you aren’t unattractive. You just don’t take the trouble. Some men can see past that.”

 

“Don’t you like being beautiful, then?”

 

“Oh, I like it fine. But it won’t last forever. I have about five years left, and then…who knows?”

 

“Your…he…wouldn’t abandon you just because you aren’t young any more, would he?”

 

Tessia shook her head, looking absolutely disgusted.

 

“You can be highly intelligent _and_ supremely naïve, I see.”

 

I swallowed. Another reason to keep clear of Hux. He just wasn’t a very nice man.

 

“Take no notice of me,” she said after a few beats. “I’m just having a blue day. Reconciling myself to the fact that I’ll never be the consort of the most powerful man in the universe. I don’t know why I’m calling _you_ naïve, when I’ve let myself entertain silly fantasies for so long.”

 

“But he needs you, you said.”

 

“Oh yes. He needs…somebody.” Her voice caught, and at the same time there was a bleeping from her wristband. As she looked at it, her eyes glowed, then dulled suddenly, as if she had been struck. “But that somebody isn’t me. At least, not tonight.”

 

She sighed. “I guess I’ll go and join my unwanted colleagues at the Pleasure Spa. Good evening.”

 

“Good evening,” I said, then, on impulse as she rose to go, “I wish you hadn’t told General Hux about that thing with Kylo Ren.”

 

“Me?” she said, staring at me. “I didn’t say a word about it.”

 

She stalked off, holding her head as high as humanly possible. I finished my drink and decided to put in an hour at the gym, to distract myself from all the thoughts and feelings this exchange had brought flooding in.

 

On the way, I bumped – literally – into Kylo Ren, who was striding along a corridor in full metalhead-and-cloak regalia.

 

“Oh – excuse me!” I exclaimed, a little winded by my sudden meeting with his iron chest.

 

“Look where you’re going,” he said in that echoing bass tone the helmet always lent him.

 

“I’m sorry,” I said, then, taking my courage into my hands, “Why did you tell General Hux about what happened the other night?”

 

“That’s no concern of yours,” he said loftily, following up with, “I thought it might amuse him.”

 

“Amuse him?”

 

“It amused me,” he said, sounding like the least amused person in the galaxy. “I am rarely approached by anyone.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“To be frank, I was flattered. But you must realise that I am not interested in that kind of thing. I have higher aims to pursue.”

 

“Of course you do,” I said.

 

He inclined his head a little and stormed off again, his cloak billowing like nobody’s business.

 

I tried to imagine what he’d be like in bed, but inevitably his hair went from dark and wild to red and perfectly trimmed before I’d even got his imaginary cloak off. It was useless. I needed the kind of brainwipe trick they’d played on the Stormtroopers.

 

It didn’t help that Hux was standing right beside my desk when I went up to the Deck the following morning. He was talking to Rybor, but as I slid into my chair, he turned and gave me this sly little look of acknowledgement that was halfway towards being a wink.

 

It soon became clear that the conversation with Rybor wasn’t mere pleasantry.

 

“…any breach of that kind will be disastrous for the entire system,” Hux was saying. “And yet this latest code is so rife with bugs that it barely makes any sense at all. Did you have it checked? Did anybody else on your team have any input?”

 

“No, but we’re all extremely busy, General…”

 

“Cadet Rome here, for instance,” he said, directing the full beam of his intense gaze on me. “Fresh from the Institute she may be, but she has proved her worth already. Why don’t you give her the task of overseeing your work?”

 

“But I’m the senior here – of course I can’t let a cadet supervise my work!”

 

“Of course you can,” said Hux smoothly, “if I order it.”

 

Rybor was speechless, as indeed was I.

 

“Are you ordering it?” he said, unfreezing from his temporary petrification.

 

“Yes, I think I am,” said Hux suavely. “I think I’m promoting Cadet Rome above you. From now on, you will answer to her.”

 

“What?” I squeaked.

 

At the same time, Rybor exploded. The sound the explosion made was a bellow, swiftly followed by, “You can’t be serious? General? This is…”

 

“This is my offer,” said Hux carelessly. “Take it or leave it. And make it quick; I have a very heavy schedule today.”

 

Rybor rose from his desk and swung a meaty fist right into the centre of the console, sending lights flickering and bleeps beeping frantically.

 

“That’s my answer. That’s all I have to say to you. Except that I’ll be on to Sentient Resources about a tribunal. You can’t do this to me.”

 

Hux merely laughed and watched Rybor lumber off the Deck, barging personnel out of his way as he went.

 

Once the poor man was in the elevator, Hux spoke into his wrist communicator.

 

“General Hux here. Have Rybor Qar’s quarters cleared and sealed. Organise a Stormtrooper escort to drop him off at the nearest neutral planet. And see that he pays us for all the wine he stole.”

 

I was staring at him, barely capable of taking in this bizarre change in my fortunes, when he turned to me with a flourish.

 

“Congratulations, Officer Rome,” he said, his lip curling upwards. “I trust I’ve made a good decision. You are equal to the task, I suppose?”

 

“I…I’ll try my very best to be,” I said, avoiding the eyes of my three colleagues, all of whom were surely more suitable candidates.

 

“I know you will,” he said, clapping a gloved hand on my shoulder. The moment of physical contact set off a kind of shattering feeling inside my ribcage and I had to work hard not to buckle at the knees. “You will not fail me.”

 

He patted my shoulder two or three times then left me to try and tame my swirling senses.

 

“That’s insane,” said one of my male colleagues, Daka, and an immediate barrage of outrage and horror was unleashed upon me.

 

“I didn’t ask for this,” I defended myself. “I didn’t want it. I don’t know why he did it.”

 

“Oh, don’t you?” said Leva, rolling her eyes with theatrical cynicism. “Sure.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

But we were attracting attention from the rest of the Deck – very unprofessional – and thankfully my colleagues were very well trained in how to put the work before the personal stuff. They returned to their consoles as soon as people started looking at us, leaving me alone with my feelings and my suddenly more sophisticated workload.

 

As we rose for our first quarter break, I tried to mend fences.

 

“Let me get you all drinks in the Atrium tonight,” I offered, “and we’ll talk about how we can approach this as a team. I don’t want to take over from Rybor. I’d rather we collaborated.”

 

The men stalked coldly off without replying. Leva looked as if she might thaw for a moment, but a Stormtrooper came up and asked to speak to me, giving her a cue to head off in the direction of the elevator.

 

“Yes, what do you want?” I asked, too harassed to stick to a formally polite footing.

 

“General Hux invites you to celebrate your promotion with him tonight. You are to present yourself at his quarters at 20:00.”

 

“Wait, what?” I said, as the Stormtrooper turned to leave. “What sort of celebration?”

 

The Stormtrooper had no further information.

 

“Couldn’t he ask me himself?” I asked, looking around for a glimpse of fox-red in the gloom.

 

“He is detained in council for the rest of the day, Officer,” said the Stormtrooper, saluting and clanking off.

 

I sank back into my chair and stared blankly at the stars for a long time.

 

Dinner with the General. Tonight. Maybe alone. Oh Lord.

 

Was there any way at all to get a message to Katari or any of the other members of my resistance cell? To even attempt it would be to put myself at dire risk – and besides, this evening was far too soon. I would never get any kind of advice before then.

 

I tried to quell my rising panic and look at the situation objectively. I had been unexpectedly promoted. This was a good thing, from the point of view of my mission. The new role lent itself to subtle sabotage. I could build all kind of bugs into the system, make sure that Starkiller never got the chance to live up to its name. I would have to make sure I kept the other three – plus whoever would take over the cadet post – sufficiently occupied with more minor stuff. But otherwise, it was all good. Far, far better than any of us had had any right to dream.

 

Of course, Hux himself might be more difficult to deal with. While not a coding expert, he knew more than enough to navigate his way around the system. He’d caught some of Rybor’s mistakes before any of us knew there was an issue. Starkiller was his baby, and he wanted oversight of every aspect of its development.

 

As for the dinner – well, perhaps it was nothing. Perhaps an evening in Hux’s quarters was standard practice for anybody promoted to officer class. And we might not be alone.

 

Despite my self-soothing, the day dragged on and on, appearing to get darker and more oppressive with every passing hour. I couldn’t help feeling as if some kind of reckoning was at hand. My colleagues didn’t help – none of them were talking to me – and I kept catching various other personnel looking at me, whispering, then turning rapidly away as soon as they realised they were observed.

 

“Leva!” I ran after her as we departed to our quarters for recreation.

 

“What?” She was stony-faced, her hands on her hips.

 

“You know I didn’t want this, don’t you?”

 

“I don’t know anything, apparently. You’re the expert around here.”

 

“Please…this came as a total shock to me. If I could change places with one of you…in fact, that’s what I’m going to ask General Hux tonight. I’ll ask if he can give the role to the most senior of you three.”

 

“Will you ask him before or after?” she said.

 

“What…do you mean?”

 

“Oh, you know what I mean,” she said, her face contorted with disgust. “I never thought Hux was the type…but then, what do I know?”

 

“It’s not like that,” I insisted. “You’ve got the wrong idea.”

 

“Of course I have. Enjoy your date. Bye.”

 

She turned sharply into a corridor I didn’t have access to. I looked after her, wringing my hands. So everyone thought that Hux and I…

 

Wouldn’t he realise that this weird appointment would create a storm of gossip all over the Senior Deck? Was that what he wanted? What _did_ he want?

 

Perhaps he had suspicions about me. Perhaps he wanted to confront me about my loyalties. Perhaps he genuinely thought I was the best person for the coding job. Perhaps he had absolutely no intentions towards me beyond that. Or perhaps he did.

 

Arriving at my quarters, I noticed that the display panel on my personal computer showed 18:46. Whatever he meant tonight to be about, I’d find out soon enough.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Waah, looking forward to writing the next chapter SO MUCH! Many thanks to all those who have read, reviewed and added kudos. A great antidote to the January dumps :).


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two things to mention ahead of this chapter:  
> 1) Obsessive combing of the Hux tag on tumblr has revealed that his eyes are actually green and not blue. The shame of it! This has been rectified accordingly.   
> 2) For the purposes of this story, the Earth was destroyed by a meteorite some time towards the end of the 19th century. So there is no way our lad is taking any kind of inspiration from Hitler, since he never existed. He's arrived at intergalactic megalomania all by his own sweet self.
> 
> So, now that that's cleared up, let's read on...

 

So, was it really too late to try this Rejuvenation Centre thing? I presumed Sentient Resources would have to sort me out with a membership, and if I knew my admin droids, that would take upwards of a fortnight.

 

Besides, turning up at General Hux’s quarters with coiffed hair and full maquillage would surely give him the wrong idea…the right idea…no, the _wrong_ idea, damn it! I was here to complete a low-level surveillance mission, not to throw myself at Resistance Enemy number one. Or number two. Maybe three, actually, depending on where they placed Kylo Ren in the heirarchy of evil. Whatever, he was definitely Top Three, and I was going to have to button myself right up for this.

 

I thought back to my Pharmaceuticals module at the Institute. There were drugs you could take to depress arousal. Unfortunately, I had none of the ingredients to hand. I would have to hope that the lively frisson of fear doing a jaunty parkour around my nervous system would be enough to keep any of that kind of thing at bay.

 

Of course, seduction was only one of many possible intentions the General might have for me, and by no means the most alarming. If he was going to penetrate something tonight, I had to hope it wasn’t my cover. What if he had seen through my carefully constructed and organised personal history? And even if he hadn’t, I had to make very sure I didn’t stray from the script. My parents weren’t abducted, but had died when I was a baby. I had grown up in a orphanage, and the state had given me the expensive education it guaranteed all children, regardless of social background, for the top scorers in the Twelve Year Tests. My life had been lonely, but fulfilling – devoted to my studies. I had cultivated the kind of individualistic disregard for ‘lower intelligences’ that characterised the First Order’s elite. I was a natural fit for them. That was who I was. Nobody else. Nothing else.

 

I was still running nervous fingers through my hair at 19:45, when there was a loud knock at my door. Damn, I wasn’t ready. I hadn’t even cleaned my boots. I grabbed at a small vial of scent and blasted it all over my visible portions of skin, then answered the door.

 

Judging by the silver, it was Captain Phasma.

 

“Oh, hello, Captain.”

 

“I’ve come to escort you to General Hux’s quarters,” she said, rather grumpily.

 

“Oh,” I said, nonplussed. It was a bit of a menial task for such a highly-ranking soldier.

 

“Yes. Nobody else has the right security clearance. Come on then. I take it you’re ready?”

 

“As I’ll ever be,” I said, stepping out after her. “A bit nervous, actually.”

 

“He won’t bite,” said Phasma, then she chuckled. “Well, probably not.”

 

“The thing is,” I said, trying very hard to ignore her comment, “I don’t really know why he wants to see me.”

 

“You were promoted, I heard,” she said. “To officer class.”

 

“That’s right. Very unexpected. I keep thinking it didn’t really happen.”

 

“It happened. So that’s what the meeting is. Mixture of social and professional occasion. It’s standard.”

 

“Ah.” A surge of relief released the clamp on my lungs. “Standard. Right. So will other members of the council be there?”

 

“I don’t know. You’re on the code bank, so probably not. You don’t really answer to anybody else apart from the General, do you?”

 

“No.”

 

“There you are then. Just the two of you, I expect.”

 

_Just the two of us._

 

We were on the top level of the base now – a level I had not visited before. Phasma had to punch in no end of data on the keypad, including a thumb print, eye recognition and a blood temp check.

 

Shortly before we stepped through the portal, she turned to me.

 

“Arms up, please. I have to pat you down. It’s standard procedure.”

 

Her metal-gloved hands travelled all over my body, feeling inside my belt and even my boots, before she was satisfied that I wasn’t carrying a weapon.

 

We moved ahead into a small vestibule in which was set a wide arched door.

 

“Here we are,” she said, putting her hand up to a visual monitor at the side of the entrance. It slid open, and Phasma nudged me through by the shoulder.

 

“I’ll leave you to it then,” she said. “Enjoy your evening.”

 

I swallowed hard and tried to take note of my surroundings. It was just like the Senior Deck, all sleek and black and shiny – rather like its inhabitant – but there was a surprising amount of artwork, both on the walls and in sculpture form, on plinths placed at exactly regular intervals. In fact, I would have mistaken the whole place for an art gallery, albeit an empty one.

 

I had put out a hand to touch one of the sculptures – it was abstract, made of silver, and somehow expressive of something I didn’t really want to think about. Pain? War? Death? Before my fingers touched the surface, a hospitality droid appeared from behind a black curtain – I hadn’t noticed the black curtain! – and beckoned me.

 

“You will follow me, please, Officer,” it said in an annoyingly supercilious tone.

 

I did as I was instructed and walked through the curtain. On the other side was a much smaller and more intimate chamber, still as darkly decorated and furnished as the entrance, but with a slightly more human ambience.

 

For one thing, music was playing, too softly for me to make it out, but I was always happy to hear music. For another, there were all kinds of varieties of plant life dotted around, adding some much-needed oxygen to the air. Most of one wall was taken up by an aquarium of sorts, though it seemed to house the most feared and notorious speciments of ocean life rather than the most colourful.

 

And there, in the centre, sitting cross-legged on a curved black leather sofa, with one arm extended along the back, was General Hux himself. Amidst all this black and chrome and lowlight, his vibrant hair and the pearly sheen of his skin were more striking than ever.

 

“Officer Rome,” he said, rising elegantly to his feet and sauntering over.

 

He held out his hand, tightly gloved even off-duty. Uncertainly, I placed my own hand in it. The leather was thin and slick and felt like a trap, as if my skin might stick to it. But, having closed his fingers briefly over mine, he released me and gestured to the sofa.

 

“Will you join me for a drink?” he said. “8V, bring a bottle of the Kusani 78.”

 

He was still in uniform, I noted. This might be a good omen – it might signify that he saw this as a strictly professional affair. The long coat he wore to take formal drills and parades outside was flung over the edge of the sofa but he hadn’t taken off his boots.

 

Once we were seated, at a distance I thought safe, and an angle that was friendly without being too forthcoming, he removed his gloves, quite slowly, keeping his eyes on mine. Such long, white fingers. And his eyes – in this more intimate light, I could see that they were pale green, not the icy blue I’d always thought them. Green eyes were rare in this galaxy – not as rare as purple or red, granted, but it was always said that they weren’t native. Maybe his family had originated in another part of the cosmos.

 

He seemed to be waiting for me to speak.

 

I cleared my throat, pressing my fingertips hard into a damp palm.

 

“I never expected…this,” I said.

 

“No doubt,” he replied. “You are not as arrogant as some of your colleagues. I can think of several who might have taken it as their due.”

 

I smirked, knowing some of the people he might mean.

 

“We are told to be confident in our abilities, General,” I reminded him.

 

“As you should be. As I am. Nonetheless, the level of confidence should match the level of ability.”

 

Now we were smirking at each other. It was rather addictive.

 

The hospitality droid interrupted our mutual lip-curl-fest, placing the wine and two glasses on a low table in front of the sofa. I tore my gaze quickly from Hux, grateful for the opportunity. His apparent admiration of me was rather dangerously intoxicating, and I needed to keep a clear head.

 

“To tell you the truth,” I said hesitantly, accepting the glass he handed to me, “it puts me in an awkward spot.”

 

“Does it? How so?”

 

He took a sip of his wine, keeping his eyes keen and piercing. Perhaps they were always like that. It certainly seemed so.

 

“Well, there are three other members of the team with much more experience. They’re understandably a bit…”

 

“Are they insubordinate?”

 

Oh Lord, now what did I say? I didn’t want to land them in trouble, on top of leapfrogging up the promotion ladder.

 

“No, no, they’ve worked as hard as ever today, but I think… Wouldn’t it have been better to give one of them the promotion?”

 

“How better?”

 

He smiled but his eyes were flint. Green flint.

 

“Just…well, I take it you don’t think so?”

 

“Of course I don’t. I gave you the job because I think you’re the best person for it. You can ask me why, but then I can accuse you of fishing for compliments. Accept it, Officer Rome. My decision is made, and won’t be unmade.”

 

So that was that, then. At least I could say I’d tried.

 

“Well, thanks anyway,” I muttered. “It’s an honour.”

 

“And will you trust me now?”

 

I jolted my chin up, almost spilling the (delicious) wine from the glass. My cheeks felt as if they must be the same rich burgundy shade.

 

“Trust you?”

 

“I offered to help you in any way you wanted, but you didn’t come to me. You know, I don’t take a personal interest in every wet-behind-the-ears cadet that comes on deck.”

 

I was being told off, apparently. I had nothing to say to this – what could I say?

 

“Don’t you?”

 

“Of course not. I have better things to do than nursemaiding new recruits. But there’s something I see in you…something different. Special.”

 

He spoke the words quite lightly, but they felt devastating. This wasn’t the standard ‘welcome to the officer class’ junket then? He must know about me. He had to.

 

“Special?” I tried to laugh but it sounded more like a hiccup. “No, not really. I’m just, you know, a girl who codes.”

 

“A girl who codes exceptionally well,” he amended. His eyes were bright now and he sounded enthusiastic. Perhaps he wasn’t trying to trap me into a confession. “I’ve looked at your records, Rome. Last night, I read through all your dissertations – even the ones on your minor subjects.  You wrote one about the Earth.”

 

“Oh, that,” I said, surprised. I had thought I was the only person interested in that defunct little blue/green corner of the universe. I’d had trouble even finding somebody who could be bothered to grade the paper.

 

“Yes. It was fascinating. I’ve always been interested in the Earth. My father had me study all their great leaders, from Genghis Khan to Napoleon Bonaparte. What a terrible tragedy that it all ended the way it did. If the Empire had only taken the time to learn from these great men, perhaps they could have held on to power.”

 

“Well, maybe,” I said. “Though Earth never had one ruler across the planet, did it? Nobody ever pulled that off, in the way that you hope to across the universe.”

 

“No, but they didn’t have our technologies,” said Hux. “If I can combine knowledge like yours with tactical brilliance like mine, then who can stop us?”

 

His fervour unnerved me. I hid in the wine glass in order to regroup.

 

“And Leader Snoke?” I asked.

 

His eyes lost their fanatic gleam and his shoulders slumped. He picked up a glove, toying with it.

 

“Leader Snoke,” he echoed. “Let’s not talk about him tonight.” He leant forwards again. “I was especially interested in what you wrote about those strange Earth belief systems.”

 

“Religions?”

 

“That was it. Such a useful tool of social control, and no need of anything like our Force.”

 

“That’s how you see them?”

 

“Yes. Don’t you? A brilliant idea – such a risk to take, and yet it paid off, for centuries.”

 

“What if one of them was real?”

 

He laughed at that, a real thigh-slapping paroxysm of mirth. It was rather frightening.

 

“You’re funny,” he said. “Which one of them shall we propagate? The one with the elephant god? Or the one with the man who walked on water?”

 

“Hinduism. Christianity,” I muttered reflexively. “Well, I don’t think we can propagate any of them, can we? Nobody would be interested.”

 

“Why not? It would at least be better than the Force,” he said, almost spitting out the last word. “It seems to me that the mistake the Earth made was in having too many of these religions. Conflict was the natural result. If we were able to keep to one…well, couldn’t it work?”

 

“I…have no idea. It’s not really something I’d ever considered.”

 

“You haven’t? I have. I think I’d like the history books to remember me as a prophet. It has more cachet than plain ‘general’ somehow.”

 

“Not a deity then?” I shot back, realising as I said it that it was rather impertinent. But really – he wanted to create a religion centred around himself? Did it get more grandiosely delusional than that?

 

He widened his eyes at me and I gritted my teeth, regretting the remark. But, after all, he seemed more amused than insulted.

 

“Why not?” he said, raising his glass to me.

 

“Oh!” I said, my ears now more attuned to the sound level of the entertainment system. “That’s Earth music, isn’t it? I think I recognise it.”

 

“Beethoven,” he said, pleased. “His third symphony. There is nothing like this in our galaxy. If only that meteorite hadn’t hit, just think who could have come after him.”

 

“You like music, then? I thought the First Order disapproved.”

 

“Snoke does,” said Hux dismissively. “He thinks it subversive. I don’t happen to agree with him.”

 

“No, me neither,” I risked, and that point the conversation veered off on to the subject of all our favourite musicians, and beyond it to art and literature.

 

The breathless pace of it cancelled out all my inhibitions. Here, in this forbidding chamber with this forbidding man, I could suddenly be in the student cantina at Zyron, deep in animated debate with any classmate. Any _attractive_ classmate, I should amend – because, as our cheeks flushed and our eyes sparkled and we made passionate gestures in attack or defence of our various enthusiasms, some kind of magic fell over me, making me forget all the alarming stuff he had spouted earlier. Infinitesimally, unconsciously, I moved closer to him, I turned towards him, until eventually the moment came when our knees nudged together.

 

Shocked into silence, I tried to edge away, but he was having none of it. He leaned forward, holding my eyes, stilling my flight, bringing me back to him.

 

“You have ancestry from Earth,” he said, in a low, intense rasp. “I read it in your records.”

 

Oh yes. I had made that claim. When I had been free to create a past for myself, it had amused me to pretend I was of Earthling stock. A little tribute to my favourite poets and composers. I had never expected to be challenged on it.

 

“Oh, it’s more anecdotal than a matter of record,” I faltered. “My old great aunts liked to talk about being descended from Shakespeare…but I don’t think there was ever any proof.”

 

“Evidence, at least,” he said. “I’ve often wondered myself…on Earth, there was an entire redhead race.”

 

“The Celts,” I said with a nervous smile. “Yes.”

 

“If one could only go to those times and places. A sense of belonging…I never really had that.”

 

“Didn’t you?” It was a whisper now.

 

His lips were so close I could feel his words on my skin.

 

“I’d like to know how it feels…to fit into a society, rather than have to create one to my specifications. And so would you, I assume.”

 

“Me?”

 

“Yes. Little orphan girl, growing up alone, finding an identity in your technical brilliance and your long-dead Earth. It’s no wonder you turned to us.”

 

“No,” I breathed.

 

“You know, we have a lot in common, Rome. Marillia.”

 

My heart was beating so fast I thought it make make the jump into hyperspace.

 

“I don’t think…” I flapped, reaching for my wine glass, anything to break this unholy tension.

 

He shook his head, tutting softly, and removed the stem from my trembling fingers, replacing the glass on the table.

 

“Why fight it?” he said. “You know what you really want.”

 

And one long fingertip rested on my cheekbone, soon joined by a second, tracing a path down to my jaw with such infinite gentleness that a little sob of breath escaped me. He held my chin in place and gave me a look that ensured the crumbling into dust of what little good sense might linger within me.

 

He was right. I couldn’t fight it. Maybe tomorrow, but not tonight.

 

My defences had fallen and there was nothing else to do but follow them into surrender. But how sweet surrender tasted on my lips.

 

He tilted my face until our mouths met and fastened upon each other, softly at first, but not for long. He released my chin and slid his hand behind my neck, pushing his thumb into the central dip at the base of my skull. I was caught there but nothing could have made me want to extricate myself, because nothing existed for me any more but the pressing of our lips, our bodies twining together, our shared heat.

 

I had been kissed before, but never like this. I had never felt this freefall. I was spinning through the stars without any idea of where I would land, if I ever did.

 

His other arm was sliding around my waist when his wrist communicator buzzed so frantically I practically vibrated along with it.

 

“Fuck!” he cursed, removing his lips from mine and glancing hurriedly at the screen. “Fucking Snoke knows how to pick his moments.” He put his hands over his face for a few seconds, almost touching in his disappointed agitation, then removed them to give me an apologetic half-smile.

 

“I’m sorry,” he said, reaching over to stroke one finger along my hairline. “I have to go. Shall we call this unfinished business?”

 

“Mm hmm,” I said hoarsely.

 

I was so unsteady that he had to help me to my feet and escort me, arms linked, out of the top level accommodation.

 

When the elevator reached my floor, he pulled me to him for a quick reminder of our pact, lip to lip.

 

Unfinished business. Where the hell could it ever end?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Hux, cockblocked by Snoke. Such is life on the Dark Side.
> 
> This chapter was brought to you by Depeche Mode's Violator album, to which I listened a lot whilst writing. The opening track 'World In My Eyes' strikes me as a bit of a Hux/Marillia playlist classic. I'll have to come up with some others!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went to see Star Wars again, in the hope that I would have more Thoughts than 'Mmm, General Hux' but to be honest, I didn't. Apart from to think that I would fire the person in charge of Health and Safety at Starkiller Base, and to wonder what the point of stormtrooper armour is if you can still get shot through it. Also - bit of a plothole for my fic - the rebels really didn't know that Starkiller Base existed until it did its stuff on the Hasnian System? Seems unlikely.
> 
> Anyway, Marillia is still on the horns of a dilemma, and it's only going to get hornier... Thank you to everyone who took the time to read, add kudos and - especially! - comment. I love comments!

 

I spent the night in a quivering foetal ball on my bed. If I made myself as small as I could, would I become invisible? Rocking through the dark hours, I tried to think, I tried really hard, but thoughts shattered as soon as they formed. Only memories came to me – of arriving home from a school camping trip to find my village burnt and abandoned; of singing the Republican anthem at some prizegiving thing at the Institute; of Tarkei telling me that the First Order hated intellectual curiosity they couldn’t control, and my outraged reaction; of my cold, miserable, lonely year of military training. And of General Hux, kissing me, and how it had changed me.

 

Even hours later, my lips felt supercharged and my skin felt thinner. I was hot all over and I couldn’t seem to make my breathing go back to normal. It was something like a flu attack, but worse, because there were things you could do to treat the flu. The flu didn’t give you these broken visions of what had been done to you, and it certainly didn’t give you this profound longing to go back to the source of your infection and take up where things were left off. Or perhaps it did. In fact, I’d never had the flu, so I could have been talking total crap. I was barely able to talk at all. I should sleep…would I ever sleep again?

 

Nervous exhaustion brought me to tears, and just as I was ready to cry myself into sweet peace at last, my alarm went off and it was time to face the day.

 

A shower, clean uniform and two cups of finest Altherian caffa did very little to pep me up. Braving the mirror before leaving, I thought it distinctly possible that General Hux might take one look at me and run screaming back to the familiar gorgeousness of Tessia.

 

Oh. Tessia. That was another thing. What would happen to her, now I was the object of his pursuit? Would she be out of a job?

 

But it was the least of my worries, and I dismissed it. What I needed to do, somehow, was to obtain an extraordinary leave pass and get home to Kusa B as soon as I could. There was no question of waiting five months. Professor Tarkei and Katari needed to know what was going on before the situation was too far out of hand. Yes, that was what I would do. Apply for extraordinary leave. I’d go to Sentient Resources during my second quarter break.

 

Feeling more positive with this micro-plan made, I headed for the Senior Deck. It took all of five minutes for the positive feeling to be replaced with a torrent of fluttering bastard insects from my stomach to my throat at the idea of having to see Hux across the console banks.

 

Lord, it was ridiculous! I didn’t even know his name! Presumably ‘General’ wasn’t on the birth certificate, although from what I’d heard about his father, it wasn’t beyond the realms of possibility. Perhaps he didn’t like his name. Perhaps it was something lame, like Anakin. I wasn’t sure I could fancy an Anakin. Then I thought about him saying my name, the way he’d said it, and my scalp tingled.

 

There was no sign of him on deck, and I gathered that he was busy in meetings with the munitions teams all morning, which afforded me a crumb of relief and a chance to get my head together and act like a sane, rational person in front of my colleagues. Not that I had much to say to them, nor them to me. All our interactions took place in the form of passive-aggressive little cyber messages between  consoles.

‘ _Leva, this string needs straightening_ ,’ I typed, yawning. _‘You seem to have switched protocols after the first few lines.’_

 

_‘Are you sure?’_ she typed back. ‘ _You seem very tired this morning. Did you get any sleep at all last night?’_

 

I shut my eyes. I daresay that was what Hux would describe as insubordination. But it was best not to bring him into all this. Then I opened them, and he was there, striding along the central walkway with that little winged cap thing of his on, and my reply to Leva mutated from a calm repeat of my initial request into ‘ _laleknaogija[‘._

From the corner of my eye I watched him stop periodically and take information bulletins from various staff captains. When he arrived at my row, I willed him to walk on, to go to the radar bank or just disappear into his office, but no. He was on his way over.

 

I ducked right down, my face flaring up like the Death Star after Luke Skywalker nailed his target, and feigned intense concentration on my work. He wasn’t going to make me talk to him in front of everybody, was he? He wouldn’t do that.

 

“Officer Rome, my munitions team have identified a need to establish some form of covert connection with the Republic’s mainframe. We want to intercept any messages that might be going out to the Resistance, and vice versa. It’s becoming clear that we can’t rely on ‘chatter’ any more.”

 

I lifted heavy eyes to his. All my lost energy seemed to have been transferred to him, as if he were some kind of warmongering vampire. His eyes gleamed and he positively vibrated with health and well-being. I could feel the icy cold of the outside planet radiating from his coat. His hands were clasped behind his back and he stood before me, four square, looking as pleased with himself as any man possibly could.

 

“That’s going to take time to establish, sir,” I ventured, trying to wrap my shattered mind around his request.

 

“I understand that. We need to discuss our options immediately.” He unclasped his hands to consult his wrist communicator’s diary mode. “I’m very busy for the next few days, but I’d rather not wait…we’ll have to make it a twilight meeting.”

 

Oh. That was the game, was it? Making trysts under the cloak of professional necessity. I was hardly going to be able to turn him down. Even if I wanted to. I _should_ want to. Lord, all this internal conflict was doing nothing for my headache.

 

“A twilight meeting,” I echoed stupidly, thinking that I’d surely be face down, asleep on the desk, by twilight.

 

“Yes. Present yourself at my quarters at nineteen hundred hours. I’ve had security add your palm print and eye recognition to the entry pad, so you won’t need an escort.”

 

I felt Leva’s elbow twitch beside me and one of the men coughed. Apparently this wasn’t usual procedure. He was giving me the key to his apartment! Bloody hell.

 

“Should I bring the team with me?” I asked as he turned to leave.

 

The look that suggestion earnt me could have burnt through a glacier.

 

“That won’t be necessary, Officer,” he said stiffly, before stalking off to the radar bank.

 

“It’s a date,” said one of the men, under his breath but just loud enough for me to catch.

 

“I beg your pardon?” I said, turning to him.

 

“Sorry,” he said, “nothing.” Even Leva refrained from comment. Apparently they didn’t feel safe sharing their feelings with me now. Well, it made me uncomfortable, but it would also make my life easier from a team-leader perspective, so I wasn’t about to complain.

 

I had more pressing issues to think about. Like, what was going to happen tonight. For him, it was presumably a case of finishing the ‘unfinished business’ of our kiss. Every one of my nerve endings dissolved as I imagined what that might entail.

 

What could I, or should I, do? If only I knew what his intentions were – perhaps he just fancied a shag? In which case, we could do it once…maybe twice, or…no, no more than twice…and part on reasonably good terms, resuming our professional relationship as if nothing had happened. Yes, that would be good, in fact. It would scratch my ridiculously intense itch and then I might want him less.

 

But this theory didn’t stand up to the scantiest examination. He had Tessia on tap for that. He must have something more serious in mind but if only I knew _what_. And _why_.

 

Somehow I managed to drag myself to the end of the working day, but my brain was so fogged with shades of exhaustion, panic and mad excitement that very little was actually done. The big G would soon revise his high opinion of me if he saw the mindless, easy tasks I’d stuck to. And why was I calling him the big G? Clearly I was now delirious. I needed something to both calm me down and keep me awake.

 

I headed straight to the Recreation Hub, in search of a few shots of caffa mixed with something sedative – they would probably cancel each other out, but perhaps a placebo effect would be good enough.

 

As I took my seat, straining to recollect some of the Earth prayers I’d learned for my dissertation – _And lead us not into temptation/But deliver us from evil -_ I was joined by the immense silver figure of Captain Phasma.

 

“Hello,” she said, taking off her helmet. I had never seen her without it before, so I’m afraid I must have stared at her. She wasn’t at all how I’d expected her to look. She was beautiful with huge blue eyes and a crop of white blonde hair and a smile that made you forget how intimidating she was during the course of her duties.

 

“Captain Phasma,” I said. “Sorry. I’ve never seen you…”

 

“Yes, I always get a reaction. Usually people recoil in horror.” She laughed.

 

“No, not at all,” I said, but I was too shy to compliment her any more than that. “I’m sorry about last night, about you having to take me…upstairs.”

 

“Ah, don’t worry about it. How was it, anyway? You were quite nervous, as I recall.”

 

“Oh. It was…it was fine. You know. Standard stuff.”

 

“Was it?” She paused to give me the most beatific smile. “That’s good. I heard a rumour the other day.”

 

Oh Lord, here it was.

 

“That you tried to flirt with Kylo Ren.”

 

Ah. I was so blindsided that I laughed, a mite hysterically, and called the droid over for a refill.

 

“Oh, that was just stupid. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

 

“No.” She smiled again, but this time a shade less companionably. “I don’t either. I’d take it as a personal favour if you’d leave him alone. If you know what I mean.”

 

“If I…” Her cheeks were a luscious fuchsia and she looked away, raising her hand to acknowledge a couple of colleagues across the room. “Oh! Are you and he…?”

 

She drew a long breath.

 

“No,” she admitted. “But I’m working on it.”

 

“You have my absolute word that I’m not after him,” I assured her, the words rushing out in my relief. “I was just passing the time of day. I think he’s attractive, but he’s not really my type.”

 

“Wrong hair colour?” she asked, raising an arch eyebrow.

 

I looked at my wrist. “Oh dear, I’m late. I’d better go. Nice talking to you, Captain.”

 

“And you,” she called after me, her smile back to full wattage as I fled to make whatever urgent repairs to my ravaged face I could before the hour of my doom was nigh.

 

I had never felt so sick in my life as I did in the elevator up to the top floor. All I could think was that I should be going down, to the bottom level, to the flight deck, and hijacking a tie fighter and probably killing myself in the attempt to fly it as far away from here as possible.

 

I went through all my lines of defence, practising each one, as each floor number was illuminated in sequence.

 

_Isn’t this a bit unprofessional?_

_I think you just want your fun then you’ll cast me aside, and I couldn’t handle that_

_I’m not ready for a relationship_

_I have some hideous genital disease_

_I have a boyfriend on Kusa B_

_In fact, I’m secretly married_

_With ten kids_

_And…and…and…_

The lift door whispered open. Fuck. I was here. It was real. And I hadn’t even considered the true justification for avoiding any interaction beyond a handshake with General Hux – my hatred for everything he believed and stood for, and my intention to scupper his carefully laid plans as comprehensively as possible.

 

Obviously I wasn’t going to be able to use that one.

 

My hands shook as I pressed my fingertips to the ID pad, and my eye must have been twitching, but it didn’t throw the software off. The door slid open, welcoming me in, a blurrg to the slaughter.

 

I walked into the art gallery area, finding no hospitality droid this time. I knew the way. I parted the black curtain, holding my breath.

 

Oh Lord! I stifled a scream. He was standing right there, just behind the curtain, so that I almost walked slap into him. No uniform this time, just skinny black trousers and a long black silk tunic thing. And he was barefoot. I stared down at his feet, then up into his face, which was tense with excitement.

 

I knew then, even before he touched me, that I wasn’t going to try any of the excuses. His pull on me was so forcefully magnetic, I was nothing more than an iron filing in the face of it.

 

I managed one wobbly, “We should talk…”

 

“No, we shouldn’t,” he said softly. “Not now.”

 

There would be no talking for a long time after that. He bent, cupped my face in his hands and unleashed the Dark Side on my mouth. I quivered, acquiescent against him, as the kiss moved swiftly into deep waters. Each little yielding gesture on my part felt like treachery – moving my hands to clasp his neck, pressing my body closer to him, opening my lips to admit his tongue – but my desire for him, and his for me, had the upper hand over everything else in the universe.

 

Caught in the crush and heat of it all, I didn’t realise at first that he was taking a little step backwards every now and then, pulling me along with him. I was distracted by the ever changing positioning of his hands, now at my breasts, now on my hips, now sliding slyly round to cup my bottom, and the unceasing intensity of the kissing. We must have drifted well past the sofa when he picked up pace and quickstepped me, still snogging, out of the room and into another.

 

I opened my eyes, startled by the sudden balletic action. All was blurred but I perceived stars above me and a low, reddish light all around. Then I was tripping and falling, landing on softness, tumbling breathlessly in Hux’s arms until we were tightly bound together, face to face on his bed.

 

“You wore your uniform. How sweet,” he said, running his hands all over my tunic, interspersing his remark with further kisses to my swollen lips.

 

“I wasn’t sure,” I gasped in reply. “You said it was a meeting…to discuss…”

 

“Oh, little Marillia,” he said, stroking my hair from my face. “You couldn’t crack the code?”

 

“People aren’t like machines,” I muttered, regretting it rather. If only I could decrypt Hux.

 

“Well observed,” he whispered. Before I could feel stung by his sarcasm, I was on my back and he was straddling me, his eyes burning down at me like the stars that surrounded them. I could see now that his bedroom had a glass ceiling and we weren’t outside as, for one confused moment, I had thought we might be.

 

“Well, the uniform isn’t called for,” he decreed. “So it must go. Arms up.”

 

He said it in such a peremptory, General-like manner that I obeyed without thinking.

 

_Now_ , my fuddled wits urged me. _Now is the time to say something that will stop this. You have moments before it’s too late._

I opened my mouth, but my throat was dry and constricted, and Hux was easing my tunic off me already, exposing my belly then my standard-issue First Order bra to his hungry gaze.

 

_Fuck off, wits, I want this_.

 

I had forgotten to be tired, forgotten to be scared, forgotten to be reluctant. Hux threw aside my tunic, then unclipped the nasty charcoal bra and bent to give my breasts his full attention.

 

As he kissed and licked and squeezed them all over, I slid my fingers into his hair, lay back and let the sensation sweep over me. A kind of peace descended. I wasn’t going to fight this any more, physically or mentally.

 

Surrender was inevitable. All I could do was embrace it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huxus Interruptus! Sorry about that. But something to look forward to, at least, I hope :). And what *is* his name? Any ideas? At some point they're going to have to start using it and I haven't a clue what to call him.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For all those of you who have waited so patiently for Hux and Marillia to get it on, this is your lucky day! It's definitely Marillia's lucky day anyway. I needed a cigarette after writing this chapter, and I don't even smoke. Enjoy...

 

I’d like to be able to remember everything that happened, in sequence and in fine detail, but for a while I existed in a kind of haze of savage kissing and grabbing and digging in of fingernails and biting. It wasn’t like me to be so unrestrained, but I needed this release very badly. I got my hands under his silk tunic and pushed into the firmness I found there, looking for resistance, almost looking for a fight. Our teeth clashed. He bunched my hair into his fist and held it tight. I escaped his kiss, with difficulty, and sank my teeth into his shoulder.

 

“Bitch!” he gasped, reaching for my wrists and pinning them down, hovering a few inches above me. He looked as lust-drunk as I felt, his immaculate hair in ruins, tumbling over his brow. A pang of exhilarated fear raced through me. He could do anything to me, anything at all, and I’d want it.

 

“Keep. Still,” he snarled, releasing my wrists slowly, making sure I wasn’t preparing another strike, before shinning down to the end of the bed and pulling off my boots. He made short work of denuding my lower body, tossing each layer aside until I lay naked and at his mercy. He knelt up, hands on knees, looking me over with unhurried but avid appreciation, waiting for me to crack and reach out to him.

 

When I did, with an inchoate pleading sound, he shook his head and smirked at me.

 

“You’ll get what’s coming to you,” he promised. “When I’m good and ready.” His hands closed around my ankles, pulling them apart until my feet rested on either side of his knees. Slowly he edged forwards, pressing his thumbs into the tender skin of my upper thighs, pulling apart my lips. He lowered his head, examining every detail of me, so close that his breath warmed my already very warm clit.

 

When one finger traced a whispery path around its perimeter, I jolted as if electrified. He had to keep doing it, more, harder, now.

 

“I know _you’re_ ready,” he teased, circling my clit with a touch so agonisingly light I was within an ace of grabbing a handful of his hair and screaming out my frustration. He seemed to understand this, and positioned himself on one elbow above me, the tip of his nose touching mine, while his questing hand continued its maddening, lazy business.

 

I shut my eyes, intimidated by his nearness, but he tutted and tapped the side of my face.

 

“Open them,” he whispered. “Or I’ll stop.”

 

I curled my fingers like claws into his shoulders and made the superhuman effort needed to maintain eye contact with him. It made everything so much more intense that tears began to gather in the corners, but this was good, because he rewarded me by slipping two of his fingers inside me and using his thumb to exert increased pressure exactly where I wanted. He kept a gentle rocking motion going, his eyes never breaking their link with mine, pushing and flexing his fingers while his thumb worked me ever harder.

 

He added a third finger, and I could hear how wet I was as he stretched and probed me. There was nowhere to hide from my own shameful desire, or from his eyes, which were like tyrannical laser beams now, pinning me with their blue-green avidity while I wriggled and squirmed towards the admission of guilt that would be my orgasm.

 

He sensed that I was getting closer and he used the knowledge, upping the ante, pushing me harder.

 

“If you want it, ask me for it,” he breathed. “Ask my permission.”

 

Oh Lord, this was crazy, this was too much, but I was beyond any inhibition now and I would do anything, say anything…

 

“Please let me come, General, sir,” I squeaked.

 

He let me, with a low purr. I thrashed underneath him, pouring on to his fingers, banging my heels into the bedcovers, turning my face from him and sobbing it out.

 

He pulled his fingers out of me and used both hands to put my face back underneath his. His mouth clamped on mine, hot and hungry, and he ran me-scented fingers through my hair.

 

“You tore my shirt,” he accused, letting me up for air. His smile was weird, an amalgam of cruelty, triumph and tenderness. I looked at his shoulder and saw where I had rent the stitches, allowing a peek at the pale skin inside.

 

“Sorry,” I said. Those incipient tears had spilled out of the side of my eyes. He bent and kissed them away.

 

“There’s no need to apologise,” he said, and the cruel bit was gone from his smile. “No need at all. Ahhh.” He drew a deep breath, rose up and removed the garment in question.

 

Now I was grateful that my eyes were clear of teary blurring, because this was a sight worth seeing. The contrast of his taut, white upper body against his black waistband made me want to rise from the ashes of my post-orgasmic burn-out and wrestle him back down for round two.

 

This was just as well, because round two was exactly what he had in mind. He was naked in seconds, reeling me back into him, rolling us both around the bed in a tumult of kissing and bumping and grinding until my head hung over the side and he hung over me, covering me in his darkness, ready to take what he wanted in earnest.

 

He manoeuvred me back into the centre of the bed, blanking out the stars with his face, lined up and ready to push inside me.

 

“Do you want this?” he said.

 

There was no second thought, no nagging internal monologue any more.

 

“Yes,” I said, meaning it wholeheartedly.

 

The word was barely out of my mouth before he was sheathed. The suddenness of it made me yelp, but any discomfort was soon dispelled by the absolute pleasure of being filled to the hilt with his First Order weaponry. He was just right, just the right size for me to really feel the tingling stretch as he pushed forwards and pulled back. I wrapped my legs around his hips and held on to his arms, loving the way they flexed and moved under my palms with each thrust. My lips were almost numb from kissing, but I still wanted more, and our mouths met hungrily, then broke apart, then met again.

 

I’d wanted to shut my eyes earlier, but now I couldn’t help but keep them open. I watched his white skin go from matt to glistening, watched his abdominal muscles twitch and twist, but most of all I watched his face, drinking in his expression. It was almost deranged in its determination; if I wasn’t so caught up in the throes of it all, I’d have been scared.

 

He started fast but soon slowed down a little, perhaps wary of peaking too soon, and ran the back of a hand across his pale eyebrows, gathering sweat from his brow.

 

He took one of my hands and moved it between my legs, not speaking the instruction to play with myself out loud, but clearly meaning me to understand it. I pressed my fingertips against my swollen, slightly sore clit and moved them slowly. I didn’t really think the extra stimulation was going to be necessary, to be honest. He was getting me all the way there all by his clever self.

 

He watched my face intently, moving slowly but surely inside me, lining up his angle, making sure he hit the spot. The way he watched me turned me on almost more than anything else that was happening and I stiffened suddenly, surprised at how quickly I was ready to let go.

 

He noticed the change in me, grabbed my other wrist, held me down hard and switched to maximum thrust. I was there already, tightening my legs around him and giving myself up to the radial enormity of my climax. I wanted him to feel it too. “Please,” I whispered, and perhaps it was coincidence, but the word seemed to set him off. His breath shortened into little sighs, then there was a gritted teeth explosion and his face was so radiantly agonised that I was overwhelmed by something that, for a moment at least, felt very close to love for him.

 

His tightly wound body collapsed into me and I held him, letting everything mingle where it would, until we were both able to breathe freely again. We were as close as two people could be, and now nothing could be the same. Sometimes people spoke about things being ‘just sex’ but this really didn’t feel like that. There was no ‘just’ about it.

 

We kissed again, a long one, then he whispered ‘perfect’ in my ear, and I kissed him again, and then there was nothing but sleep.

 

When I woke up, hours had passed. I was lying under the stars, with a bit of black silk sheet across my middle, and nobody beside me. Only the pinpoints in the heavens above provided any light at all.

 

I sat up abruptly, shaking the headache out of me, wondering for a moment where I was.

 

“You’re back,” said a soft, amused voice from somewhere across the room. I squinted through blurred eyes to see General Hux, sitting in a black chair in a black gown looking at a black tablet interface. No wonder I hadn’t seen him.

 

“Lord, what’s the time?” I said, flustered at the way my memories were all rushing back at once. The ongoing throb between my legs provided all the reminder I needed.

 

“Twenty three fifteen,” he said, putting the tablet aside and making his way over to me. He clicked his fingers and a few discreet spotlights came on. “You were exhausted.”

 

There was a note of self-satisfaction in the remark. He sat down beside me, put a fingertip to one cheek and dropped a kiss on my forehead, then the tip of my nose, then my lips.

 

“Poor little Marillia,” he whispered. “Extra stamina training for you, I think.”

 

“You think?”

 

“Yes. I’ve seen your records from military training. You weren’t the star of the PT class, were you?”

 

“Well, no,” I admitted. I’d hated every fucking minute of that fucking class. “All those crunches. Not really my idea of fun.”

 

“Are you hungry? I’ve eaten, but I saved some for you.”

 

“Thanks, I’m starving, actually.” I was. I needed to get something inside me before my rumbling stomach shattered the glass ceiling.

 

While he went to fetch the meal, I contemplated my position. I was now quite unmistakably involved with Hux. He hadn’t kicked me out of bed, which indicated that he was interested in more than the possible (but unlikely) no-strings shag. Furthermore, he hadn’t tried to kill me, which indicated that he believed I was who I said I was. So what _was_ this all about?

 

He came back with a tray, on which were set a plate of food and a glass of iced water.

 

“Fresh meat,” I noted with appreciation. I was so over all that defrosted cured and smoked stuff we were constantly fed, although it was still better than the fish.

 

“Yes,” he said. “There’s a native animal here, I forget the name, but they’re small and furry and very fast. Not many of them manage to get themselves caught, but when they do…”

 

“Straight to the General’s table,” I finished, digging in a fork.

 

“More often than not,” he said, watching me. “I mean it about the stamina training. You’re going to need it.”

 

My stomach flipped. He seemed to be hinting at some kind of long-term and intensely sexually athletic arrangement.

 

“It’s fine,” I said. “The food’s helping. I was just a bit tired, that’s all. Sleepless night – for which I blame you.” I jabbed my fork at him. “Kissing me and then running off like that.”

 

“It was regrettable,” he said, “but you don’t mind a little delayed gratification, do you? It sharpens the appetite.”

 

“Mm, I got that,” I said, daring a grin. “Loud and clear.” I paused to eat some more of the delicious meal.

 

“You weren’t disappointed, I hope,” said Hux.

 

“Lord, no. Far from it. You’ve obviously done that before.”

 

I side-eyed him, wondering if he’d confess his arrangement with Tessia.

 

“I’ve worked on it,” he said evasively. “I don’t see the point of doing anything unless you’re going to be good at it. No, unless you’re going to be the _best_ at it.” He waited for me to catch his eye. “You’d know about that, of course. We’re very alike in that respect. Perfectionists.”

 

So Tessia was his training ground. How charming. But when I thought about it, was I really any better? I’d lost my virginity, quite dispassionately, to an older student at the Institute, known for his sexual prowess. If I was going to do it, I had reasoned, it was best to do it with someone who knew their way around, and who could teach me something. We had a brief affair and I learned a few tricks.

 

After that, there had been a short stint of one-night whims after late lock-ins in the student cantina. I hadn’t wanted to get involved with any of them because I knew what I had to do after I graduated. No point getting too close to people when I had to keep so many secrets. And the First Order training camp had been a total no-go, so I’d had two and a half years out of the game until now. I ought to be grateful I hadn’t rusted up – or perhaps Hux just provided exceptionally high quality oil.

 

I wasn’t ready to contemplate his theory that we were similar personalities yet though. Nowhere near ready for that. Time for a change of subject.

 

“This is all very sudden,” I said, pushing aside my finished meal. “I’ve barely been here a month. A week ago you didn’t know I existed. I’m a bit…” I made a whooshing gesture with my hands.

 

“I knew you existed,” he said, taking my tray and removing it from the bed.

 

“Well, yes, but…what made you…why did this happen?”

 

He lay back against the pillows, pulling me down with him so that my face nestled in the crook of his neck and shoulder. He stroked my hair and face as he spoke, staring up at the stars.

 

“It was time,” he said obliquely.

 

“Time?”

 

“I’ve risen very far very fast,” he said. “I’ve had no room in my life for anything but my career and the advancement of the First Order. But now I’m thirty. I estimate that it will take perhaps another two years to complete Starkiller Base and commence the obliteration of the Republic. In those two years of grace, I have the opportunity… I’m sorry, this all sounds very calculated, but you must understand that for me, spontaneity is a luxury I can rarely afford. My father has told me that his only regret in life is focusing for too long on his career, at the expense of private life. I’m his only child, and he always wanted more. So, you see…”

 

Blazing black holes, this was serious! He was looking for a bloody wife!

 

“I think I see,” I said faintly.

 

“It’s an experiment,” he said. “If it works – I’d like it to work – then why wait? Life is short, especially when we live in a theatre of war.”

 

I shivered. Suddenly I was a long, long way from home. Which of those stars was Kusa B? If only I could just reach out and bring it here.

 

“And why me?” I said.

 

He propped himself on an elbow and stared down at me, eyebrows raised.

 

“Why _not_ you?” he said. “You are everything I’m looking for. When you joined, I read your files and felt instinctively that I’d found something special. I’ll admit, I was intending to take things a little more sedately, but then…”

 

“Then?”

 

He tightened his lips for a moment. “Then I heard you were showing an interest in Kylo Ren.”

 

“Oh! Lord.” I giggled with embarrassment. “Please don’t think that was anything. I was just trying to make friends.”

 

Hux sniffed. “He seemed to think you were after something a little more than that. I realised then that I had to act swiftly. And so here we are.” He ran a fingertip down my throat, through the valley of my breasts, then turned me towards him, holding me in place with a hand on my back.

 

“Here we are,” I whispered, face to face with him, his glittering eyes fixed on mine.

 

“And I’m enjoying the experiment,” he murmured, removing what was left of the sheet, kissing my neck while one hand drifted down over my bottom. “Very much.”

 

He grabbed a cheek and squeezed hard. I moaned and rubbed my leg along his, already untying the sash of his robe. His hard length prodded my pubis and I wriggled in closer, too wet, too ready, too soon. How did he do this to me? It had never been like this with any of my other lovers, even the college stud.

 

We rocked and rolled across the sheets, silent except for our gasping breaths, searching for the quickest route to full connection. We found it easily, gliding together, tangling up in each other for a long, slow, sensual reprise of our earlier, more frantic, coupling.

 

All the knots of unease were eased away. Our differences in belief, background, status vanished into the vortex of pleasure. I was nothing more than a woman, with a man, enjoying what came naturally.

 

The stars shone on us with a benign, indulgent light. They understood me. They wouldn’t judge me yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You have no idea how much self-restraint was involved in not making Hux say 'Fire!' at the crucial moment... Maybe next time :D. Still haven't decided on the name despite all the great suggestions; luckily it didn't seem to come up in conversation. Looking forward to your awesome comments, as always <3.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to all commenters - I am inspired by your insights. This fic is one of the few good things getting me through a grim January xxx.

It was eerily quiet in the Recreation Hub, but then it was ten-twenty in the morning and almost everybody else was at work. I happened to have a half-day’s remission break, which Hux had known about. He’d even given me some advice on how to spend it – two hours of sleep and an hour in the gym. Was that advice? Or was I now deliberately flouting an order?

 

I raised my caffa cup to my lips in a gesture of futile defiance, watching the giant, silent screen above the bar. It was showing a recording of the last quarter of the most recent skellball final. The First Order were big on skellball, but it was my least favourite sport and I wasn’t really watching.

 

My sleeve had slipped down when I lifted the cup, revealing a bracelet of faint fingermark bruises on my wrist. I hadn’t realised at the time how tight Hux’s grip on me had been. I stared at the marks, thinking how metaphorical they were. Hux’s grip. Tight. On me.

 

I had a lot to think about.

 

I don’t know why I hadn’t entertained the idea that he might be looking for more than something to pass the time while he continued to fine-tune Starkiller Base. Now, in the dim synthetic-light of what passed for day around here, it all seemed so clear. He wasn’t the type of man to fool around. Whenever he did anything, it was always with a serious purpose. I should have tried harder to keep myself clear of him, somehow. But how? Was it too late now? Could I back off and say I wasn’t looking for a relationship? Somehow I couldn’t see that going down too well.

 

Besides, by far the worst and most disturbing thought in my mind was a horribly swoony sense that I had found something I wanted to keep. I wanted to wake up every morning and see his face, so strangely angelic in sleep that it was impossible to believe him capable of harm. I wanted to sit up in bed, ready to tiptoe away and find some caffa, only to have him wake suddenly and pull me back down. I wanted to shower with him, like we did just a few hours earlier, and somehow end up braced against the wall with him behind me, powering me to my fifth, or sixth, or fifty-sixth or whatever orgasm of the night or day or… ugh. I couldn’t think it. It wasn’t useful to fantasise about a future with him. It could never happen.

 

I laid my head on my hands, willing all the complicated thoughts to go away and let me have a few moments of peace. When I looked up again, Tessia was sitting opposite me.

 

“Shit!” I said, the word spilling out unintended.

 

“I’ve been called worse,” she said, deadpan. “You look like you could use something a little stronger than caffa. Droid! Two Death Stars over here.”

 

“I can’t,” I said. “I’m working this afternoon.”

 

“Oh, just one won’t kill you.”

 

“Yeah, a Death Star? Those things are potent.” I eyed the hospitality droid warily as it lined up a number of bottles on the bar top.

 

“Potent,” echoed Tessia, lingering weirdly over the word. Deeply uneasy, I tried an escape gambit.

 

“Actually, I really need to head down to Sentient Resources – I’ve put in an application for…”

 

“What have you done to your wrist?” Tessia’s elegant glittery fingertip touched one of the bruises. “Or rather, what has _somebody_ done to it. I don’t suppose you did it yourself.”

 

“That? Oh, er…”

 

“I’ve had bruises like that,” she continued. The droid, having poured several shots of different alcoholic beverages into a large mixer along with some crushed ice, was shaking it all up. “Just like that.”

 

“Mm,” I said, bristling at being made to feel guilty. _I_ wasn’t the one sidelining her for somebody else.

 

“He hasn’t called for me in a week,” she said.

 

“That’s not really any of my business,” I said. The droid brought the cocktails to the table, setting off a magnesium flash around the rim. “Wow.”

 

“Isn’t it?” said Tessia, her attempt at a careless smile now a rictus. “I wonder.”

 

“Your arrangement with General Hux…”

 

“How dare you call it that? What do you know about it? ‘Arrangement’!” She practically spat with rage. “I’ve been his for six years. I have never wanted any other way of life.”

 

“Well, don’t you think you should?” I said, too tired to have patience with her non-existent self-esteem. “Don’t you think there might be more to life than whoring for some guy who doesn’t really give a shit about you?”

 

My sentence ended with an alcoholic splash in my face, burning my eyes and making me gasp. Tessia threw aside her glass, letting it smash on the floor so that the hospitality droid went into tutting dustpan-and-brush overdrive.

 

“You can’t give him what he wants,” she hissed. “You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into. He’ll be too much for you, and then he’ll come back to me. Wait and see.”

 

Standing over me, she drained my cocktail in one gulp and made a run for the concourse. The hospitality droid, having dealt with the broken glass, brought me a face flannel in a bowl of water. I cleaned myself up as best I could and made my wobbly way down to Sentient Resources.

 

“I know I only filed the application yesterday, but is there any news?” I asked the desk-clerk. She went over to her console and I took the opportunity to look around for any sign of information about the base’s hundreds of Stormtrooper personnel. Was it possible that records were kept in here? I needed to work out how to hack my way into the files without leaving a trace. The system wasn’t one I’d worked on before, but it seemed similar to HaylonPro, with which I’d had some dealings at the Institute.

 

She turned back to me and I averted my eyes from their spying mission.

 

“It’s been sent for final approval,” she said brightly.

 

“When do you think I’ll hear?”

 

“Oh, that depends on how busy the General is.”

 

My heart gave a hiccup.

 

“The General?”

 

“Yes, the General has final approval of all officer-class leave requests. You should hear within a couple of days.” She smiled into my stricken face. I thanked her and turned away.

 

This was not good news. Not good at all. I hadn’t even wanted him to know I’d applied for this extraordinary leave, let alone have the application fall slap-bang on to his desk. How the hell was I going to get away from this place? I couldn’t leave it five months. I could be Mrs General Hux by then!

 

I wandered back to my quarters in a cocoon of anxiety. I had half an hour in which to try and get the Death Star cocktail stickiness out of my hair, change my uniform and head up to the Senior Deck. I hadn’t completed my journal in two days, and I still needed more sleep. Everything was looping way out of my control and traps lay on all sides of me. It was hard to know which alternative was worse – General Hux finding out who I was, or General Hux _not_ finding out who I was.

 

“Did you come to any decisions last night?” asked Leva, once I’d settled back down at my terminal, and all I could do was goggle at her, totally thrown by the question.

 

“What?”

 

“In your meeting with the General,” she prompted. “About intercepting Republican signals.”

 

“Ahhh, yes, sorry, not with it today. Somebody tried to make me drink a Death Star cocktail at lunch. Um, no, no decisions. More discussion needed first.”

 

“A Death Star at lunch?” Leva raised her eyebrows. “Don’t go the same way as Rybor.”

 

“I didn’t drink it,” I muttered, clocking Hux from the corner of my eye, deep in animated, not particularly affable, conversation with Kylo Ren.

 

“They’re at loggerheads again,” said Leva, following my line of sight. “If it’s not one thing, it’s another.”

 

“What’s the problem?” I asked, curious. I could blame Kylo Ren for my current predicament. Or I could blame myself for making that boneheaded play for him.

 

“Kylo Ren wants to command the Finalizer on a mission to locate a suspected Jedi training base in the Fortean system. But Finalizer is Hux’s ship and he won’t let anybody else behind the wheel. Leader Snoke has been adjucating this morning – not sure what the conclusion was, but neither of them seems very happy about it.”

 

“Why do they have to take Finalizer?” I asked. “They could take a smaller ship, surely.”

 

Leva shrugged. “I think it’s another test case. Who’s the Leader’s favourite boy? Is it Kylo, is it Hux? It’s a permanent pissing contest with those two.”

 

I snickered, appreciating her rather scandalous irreverence. It seemed that my being promoted over her head had given her a much more jaded view of First Order politics.

 

The smile was soon wiped off my face, though, when Hux parted company with Kylo Ren and made a beeline for my bank.

 

“There’s an administrative issue I need to discuss with you in my office, Rome,” he said. His gimlet glare suggested the unlikelihood of its being something trivially pleasant, like paperclip supplies or a staff party. Did they have staff parties at Starkiller Base? Or indeed, paperclips? I had seen evidence of neither.

 

I tottered after him, ignoring the susurration of gossip that followed us as we crossed the floor.

 

Once in the office, he darkened the glass so no prying eyes could watch us, marched over to the other side of his desk and held up a piece of paper that I took to be my Extraordinary Leave application.

 

“Can you explain this to me?” he asked icily.

 

“Oh, that. Well, like it says, a friend’s wedding on Kusa B…”

 

“What friend?” He sounded outraged by the very concept of friendship.

 

“From the orphanage,” I improvised. “A very old friend.”

 

He stared at me, hard. I had to look down at my boots.

 

“You’ve been here one month,” he said. “You are not eligible for leave for another five.”

 

“I know that, but…”

 

“Is your friend a member of the First Order?”

 

“No.”

 

“Then you should sever the friendship,” he said. “It isn’t suitable.”

 

I drew in a sharp breath. “What? I can’t see my oldest friends?”

 

He turned his face away from me, as if counting to ten to avoid an outburst of temper, then he thrust out one arm, beckoning me closer. I edged to his side of the desk, wary of his intentions.

 

He faced me again and took hold of my hands, cradling them against his chest. His expression was a little more relaxed now and I could see he was making an effort not to snap at me.

 

“I don’t want to argue with you,” he said. “But I need you to understand, Marillia. Your situation is unusual, in that you have no family, no natural connection with the Order. You aren’t the only one, by any means, but most of us have grown up amongst those who mourned the death of the old Empire. You didn’t. If you go back to Kusa B, you will be among enemies, not friends. People who cannot or will not understand your new beliefs and dreams. People who might try to take you from us.”

 

“My friends aren’t political,” I said, but I had a feeling I might be wasting my breath. He’d made up his mind. I wasn’t leaving Starkiller Base, unless it was to meet the new in-laws. “They wouldn’t try that.”

 

“I can’t take that risk,” he said. “From now on, we are your family and friends. All of us here at Starkiller Base, and me in particular. The best thing you can do is forget everyone you knew on Kusa B.” His thumb caressed my cheek like a whisper. “It might seem like a loss, but I will do everything I can to make it up to you.”

 

“But Kusa B,” I said, slightly hoarsely, trying to hold back tears of – what? – frustration, fear, sadness, all kinds of emotion. “It’s my home.”

 

He tilted his head to one side, giving me a look of reproachful rebuke.

 

“No, Marillia,” he said softly. “Your home is in here.” He put my palm flat to my breast, against the faint panicking bump of my heartbeat. “There is more in there than Kusa B, isn’t there? There’s your work, our shared great work, the First Order, and…I’d like to think…after last night…”

 

He wanted me to melt into his arms. I wanted to oblige him, and yet I also wanted to kick him hard in the crotch and then run, and keep running until I fell off the edge of the planet.

 

That was far more risky than it was worth, though, so there was nothing to do but give him his moment of victory. Temporary victory. I couldn’t make him sign the application, so I’d have to think again. I let him fold me in his arms, place my head on his shoulder, press his warm lips to my forehead.

 

“If you need a home, I can give you a home,” he promised. “You don’t need to go any further than my arms.”

 

He meant it to sound reassuring, but I had never been so terrified in my life.

 

*

 

I lay on my bed that evening, still exhausted, tense and aching all over from the thorough workout he had given me the night before. If I sat up, I could feel where he had been inside me. So I didn’t sit up. Instead I lay there, in knots, trying to unravel my thoughts, which were in a very similar state.

 

I had known this mission would put me in danger, but I had never dreamed of this. I had become a honeytrap, completely unintentionally and with no idea how to be one. Where was the way out of this? Escape? Suicide? Murder? Or perhaps I should assume the deepest cover of all time and actually marry him. But that was surely above and beyond the call of anybody’s duty. All the same, it would have _some_ compensations…

 

I sat up with a shriek, as the communicator pad on my wall bleeped sharply. I winced at the little twinge between my legs the sudden movement set off.

 

“Who’s there?” I spoke into my wristband.

 

“It’s me.” The dulcet tones of my lover. “Let me in.”

 

I closed down my journal, which had been open on the wall screen, and sorted out the door. I watched him from the archway between my bedpod and the main room as he took a few paces in and stopped to look all around the place with undisguised distaste.

 

“I’ll see about having you moved,” he said. “This isn’t officer-class accommodation. Besides, I want you closer to me.” He caught my eyes and smirked.

 

“Thank you,” I said, holding on to the wall to stay upright. _Why_ did I find him so attractive? Just the sight of him standing there, pulling off his gloves, made me want to fall down in a dead faint.

 

“Why are you hiding there?” he chided, seating himself on my little black couch and patting the space beside him. “Come and sit with me. I don’t have long, I’m afraid – twilight meetings until long after twilight, then I have rather a lot of work to catch up on in my quarters. But I didn’t want the day to end without seeing you again.”

 

I did as I was told. He stretched one arm along the back of the sofa so that his fingers rested lightly on my shoulder.

 

“Oh,” I said, starting slightly at the longed-for and yet also unwelcome contact. “Can I offer you anything? A drink, or…?”

 

He put a finger on my lips, shushing me.

 

“You’re such a nervous little thing,” he said. “Are you scared of me?”

 

“No,” I lied. “But I _am_ nervous. This is all very…strange…and fast…”

 

“You didn’t seem to mind last night.” The finger that had shushed me was now tracing the outline of my lips, then moving up towards my ear. All my treacherous sensual impulses abandoned the Republic and went straight for the First Order. If he didn’t kiss me, I would die.

 

He kissed me. Foreheads together, his hand on my neck, we looked unblinkingly into each other.

 

“No,” I said, swallowing.

 

“There’s no need to be nervous.”

 

“I can’t help it. You’re, well, you’re the General, the son of Brendol Hux, and I’m just…me. I don’t feel worthy of you.”

 

“I’m only the General because I made up my mind to be,” he said. “I didn’t rely on my father’s name. I made my own. And you can do the same. You’ve come so far, Marillia, in such a short time. Don’t let yourself be overawed by your destiny.”

 

“My destiny?” I whispered.

 

“Yours and mine,” he whispered back, then there were more kisses, thank goodness, because they gave me breathing space to examine this concept. Well, as much as I could while I was lip to lip, slaking my body’s thirst for this man.

 

He obviously believed that all this was meant to be – not just his position in life, but meeting me. It was going to make breaking away from him much, much harder.

 

“If you want to be worthy of me,” he said, pulling my shaking body against his, “just allow this to happen, naturally, without questioning it. That’s not too difficult, is it?”

 

I shook my head. Somehow one of my legs had got mixed up with his in the process of kissing. I was halfway on to his lap and all I wanted was to get all the way there. My body seemed to be ignoring all the sore spots and stiff muscles. What mattered to it was getting as close as possible to this other body.

 

Hux indulged me in this for a while, then pulled away from me, breathing heavily.

 

“I wish I could, but I have to go,” he panted. “Damn it. And I haven’t even told you what I came here to say.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“I want you to come to my quarters tomorrow at nineteen hundred. A small gathering with dinner. Go to the Rejuvenation Centre first. I’ll send up something for you to wear.”

 

“What sort of… what?”

 

But he was up and gone, gloves back on, before anything more could be said.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I loved all your comments about the last chapter - that conflict between finding Hux incredibly attractive and yet knowing he's a highly dangerous man is the (fast beating) heart of this story. It's bad enough in my head - can only admire Marillia for living it and not collapsing into nervous breakdown. Well, not yet anyway. Please read on (and preferably not on the bus, somepallings :D - it's going to get hot).

I hadn’t known what to expect of the Rejuvenation Centre – for some reason I’d had a kind of miniature Kusa B in mind, with synthetic waterfalls and giant plant life everywhere – but it turned out to be every bit as starkly functional as the rest of the base. I showed my pass and walked into a large hexagonal atrium, dotted about with black leather couches. Each side of the hexagon gave into a subsidiary space, each one devoted to a different aspect of the pampering and healing arts. Which should I try first?

 

I sat down on one of the sofas, wondering why even simple decisions seemed so hard for me lately. I supposed some part of the executive functioning of my brain had been impaired by stress. I needed to fix that – perhaps I should start with a therapy? I looked over to the therapeutic side of the polygon, but already a little hospitality droid had whirred up to me and was offering me various restorative teas and tisanes.

 

Perhaps some Vergeran Pampas Juice would kickstart my braincells. Anything was worth a try.

 

As I sat, sipping and watching high-status crew members and pleasure staff come and go, I began to feel settled. I was even able to contemplate Hux’s plan to intercept Republican intel. Was there a way I could minimise the dangers of this? I sank deep into making an mental inventory of my options. I was about halfway through this when Tessia walked in.

 

A pang of guilt cut off my calculations. She shouldn’t have thrown her drink at me, but then again, I shouldn’t have said what I did. Pure agitation had mastered me. I needed to check this tendency, and fast, seeing as there was probably going to be a lot of pure agitation in my immediate future. Calling Tessia a whore probably wouldn’t have long term repercussions for me, but what if I ended up calling Kylo Ren a cut-price Darth Vader? Or Hux a ginger Palpatine wannabe? It didn’t bear thinking about.

 

Besides, the last thing I needed in my life just now was pointless enmity. The olivet branch was mine to proffer.

 

I gathered my courage and stood up as she passed, her face directed studiously away from me as if a bad smell was heading towards it.

 

“Tessia,” I said, trying not to sound tentative. She walked on. “Please. I’m sorry for what I said. I shouldn’t have said it. Can you forgive me?”

 

She stopped, but didn’t turn to me.

 

“You were right,” I continued, chipping away at her. “I know nothing. I’m sure the General will get sick of me pretty quickly. In fact, I expect him to.”

 

Bingo! She turned and fixed a haughty stare on me.

 

“If you are trying to get my advice on how to keep him…” she said threateningly.

 

“No, that’s not what I’m doing. I wouldn’t be so heartless. In fact…” I swallowed. This was a huge risk. If it got back to Hux, I’d be toast. “I kind of want him to go back to you.”

 

She looked incredulous for a minute, then she smiled.

 

“Is this a joke?” she said. “Not a very funny one, if so.”

 

“No, not a joke. Can we sit and talk? Please?”

 

She thought about it for a moment, then nodded. We sat back down on the sofa, and the droid brought Tessia a tall glass of something mauve without her having to ask.

 

“What I mean to say,” I said, in a low tone, afraid of being overheard, “is that I’m, well, I’m scared.”

 

Tessia smiled. “Does he intimidate you?”

 

“In a word, yes.”

 

“And you don’t like being intimidated? You see, that’s the heart of the matter. I do.”

 

She sucked at her straw with perfect scarlet lips.

 

“I just think,” I continued, “I’m bound to disappoint him in the end. And then he’ll leave me anyway. I guess that’s why I said what I did to you. I was feeling insecure.”

 

“I have more reason to feel that way than you do,” said Tessia. “He might come back to me, but the chances are, he won’t.”

 

“Why do you think that?”

 

“It’s obvious. He has dynastic ambitions which I can never satisfy.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“The Pleasure Corps is made up of men and women who cannot bear children.”

 

“Lord! I had no idea.” Deep unease crawled over my skin. I took a gulp of the restorative juice, but it didn’t really do the trick.

 

“We are the children of stormtroopers. Those who are fertile become fighters. Those who are not – well, they can become fighters if they wish, but they are the most expendable and given the most dangerous work. Those of us who are remotely physically attractive join the Pleasure Corps. It’s a comfortable way of life, but it has its limitations. We lose our looks and the interest of our sponsors, and we end up on Iralos.”

 

“Iralos?”

 

“It’s where old stormtroopers end up – those that live to be old, that is. A purpose-built satellite, somewhere in the Etraxan system. By all accounts, it’s a rather dull place. I don’t want to end my days there.”

 

I was stricken. How cruel this all was. No wonder Tessia had been so over-the-top about losing Hux.

 

“And if Hux doesn’t want you back…will you have to go there?” I breathed.

 

She shook her head. “Oh, not for a long while yet. As the General’s cast-off, my stock will be pretty high. Some ambitious young gun will bid for me, once my retainer runs out.”

 

“How long will that take?”

 

“One month from the time of my last night with the General. Which was eight days ago. I suppose I should think of this as a holiday.” She raised her eyebrows at me, draining the last of her juice.

 

“It’s not, though, is it, because you love him,” I said impulsively, my heart – so stony yesterday – now bleeding for her. For half a second, her perfect face wrinkled, and I was afraid tears might follow.

 

But Tessia was made of sterner stuff than that.

 

“I want what’s best for him,” she said carefully. “I won’t let my emotions interfere with that. I apologise too, for the way I behaved yesterday. It was self-centred. It won’t happen again.”

 

She rose to leave. I stood quickly, flapping, needing to let her know I cared.

 

“Tessia…if you need a friend…for any reason…please come to me. I’ll do anything I can to help you.”

 

Her expression mutated from baffled, through suspicious, to something like touched.

 

“That’s kind of you,” she said. “I’ll grant you a kindness in return. Have your hair put up. He loves letting it down.”

 

Her lips quivered a little, then she turned and hastened off towards the thermal spa suite.

 

Hair. It was as good a place to start as any. I finished my rejuvenating, if somewhat revolting, juice and made for the salon.

 

Some time later, I returned to my quarters, both looking and feeling like a different person. My skin had been polished, my features enhanced, my spirit nourished and my hair twisted into a shiny little chignon. I didn’t quite equal Tessia’s standard of knock-em-deadness, but I was certainly a few notches above the code bank mouse I had been.

 

Looking into the full-length mirror in the entryway, I laughed with a mixture of disbelief and horror. Who _was_ this sophisticated woman? Would Hux like her? Would he even recognise her?

 

Two packages had been left by the door. I was confused for a second, before I remembered Hux’s words about sending me something to wear. Just as well, because I had nothing.

 

I opened the first one quickly, letting the fabric fall and drape out of the packaging as I crossed the living area. Oh, he had to be joking. I couldn’t possibly wear this! There was hardly anything of it!

 

It was some stretchy, clingy, shiny black material with lots of pieces cut out here and there. It appeared to be missing the tops of the sleeves, for instance, and there was a ladder of slits on the lower part of one side. It looked as if it might fit an anorexic Jawa, but the chances of it fitting me…

 

Oh well. I supposed I ought to try it, at least. It took a while – I couldn’t seem to work out which were armholes and which neckholes – but eventually I struggled into it, spending a long time just trying to pull the tight material down over my hips and thighs. Thank goodness for my hair being out of the way, or I’d have been modelling the wookiee look by the time I got the damn thing on properly.

 

I could only shake my head at myself in the mirror. Yes, by some miracle, it fitted me, and none of the more incriminating body parts were revealed. It nipped me in tight at the waist and made my bust look huge and my legs much longer than they really were. Cut-out areas showed my shoulders and a series of elliptical flashes of the skin of my left thigh, but other than that, it covered what needed covering, although the skirt was pretty short. It was ridiculously flattering, and fell just – only just – the right side of the outright slutty line.

 

The second package contained shoes, or rather, unwearable pointy heeled things with ribbon ties. They reminded me of Tessia in the snow. I certainly hoped I wouldn’t be going far in them – door to elevator to Hux’s door would be about my limit in these.

 

I gave my mirror image a final salute, wondering what in the galaxy this ‘gathering’ actually was. Presumably it wasn’t a professional affair – Hux very clearly wanted to show me off. But to whom?

 

I was apprehensive in the elevator, hoping nobody else would share my ride and see me looking like this. Fortunately, nobody did. I kept pulling the skirt hem down, trying to stop it showing quite so much leg, lovely as my legs were looking after their Saveranian silk treatment at the Rejuvenation Centre.

 

It was a relief to reach Hux’s quarters and know that I wouldn’t have to totter much further on these ludicrous heels. I click-clacked across the lobby and peered through the curtain that led to the main living space. I was still peering when steely fingers closed around my elbow from behind.

 

I squealed in shock, although I knew instinctively that it was Hux. The shadow he cast, the way he held me, the subtle scent of his aftershave all screamed his name.

 

“Let me look at you,” he rasped, spinning me around to face him. He devoured me with his eyes, just as I devoured him – out of uniform, in a black silk shirt and bantha-leather trousers, lean and taut as a whipcord and just as ready to strike. He released a long, shuddery breath, then he was on me, sucking off my perfectly-applied lipsheen, shoving me back against the wall.

 

I made a pathetic pretence of fighting him off, but only because it turned us both on even more. Within seconds, I was hanging on to his neck while he yanked up my skirt, his other hand grabbing blindly at my breasts in the tight binding fabric.

 

He released my lips only to growl, “Why are you wearing these?”, meaning my briefs, which he pulled to one side, simultaneously unbuttoning his fly. “Leave them off next time.”

 

Then my leg was positioned high up above his hip, and I buried my fingers in his hair while he buried himself in me, fast and hard and deep, pinning me to the wall. We messed each other up, bucking and grunting and tugging at whichever bit of clothing got in our way, strung so high with animal need for each other that nothing else could exist. The base of my spine banged against the wall with each thrust, but I didn’t care about that, nor about his hand at my throat, or his teeth snagging sharp against my lower lip. I only cared about the expanding flame of incipient orgasm, building and growing as he slammed into me, over and over, until I couldn’t take the heat and it flooded out of me like lava.

 

“That’s it,” he hissed, never breaking his stroke as I came all over him. “Take it.”

 

And then it was his turn, clamping a tight hand on one of my arse cheeks as he emptied into me, his neck thrown back, his eyes half-closed, a series of hectic under-the-breath cries escaping him until he was silent and sapped. His head fell forward on to my shoulder. I held it there, kissing his neck and the side of his face.

 

I was shaking all over and I never wanted to let go of him. Never ever.

 

The comms pad shrieked and we leapt about a foot off the floor.

 

“Shit.” Hux looked at his wrist. “They’re early. I told them nineteen-thirty.” He pulled out, slowly and carefully and gave me a quick but savage kiss. “You’d better get yourself to the bathroom.”

 

I ran, somewhat squishily, away from any possibility of being seen in this state by whomever Hux had invited to join us. I wondered if he was going to answer the door straight away; if so, his uncharacteristic dishevelment and the high colour of his cheeks might tell an interesting story.

 

Hiding in the bathroom, getting down to work with tissues and make-up repair, I tried to listen for voices. There was one…more than one…one of them was deep…the other a woman. Hmm. Double date? I patted off the perspiration, made sure my updo was still updone, tugged down that pesky hem and left the room. I was still hot-cheeked, a little breathless and trembly, but there was nothing I could do about that.

 

I hung back, behind the communicating arch that led into the main living area, wanting to see who I was dealing with before they saw me. Through a crack in the curtain, I saw Hux enter first, still flushed and bright-eyed, followed by Kylo Ren. I nearly laughed out loud. He and Hux were dressed exactly the same – perhaps they’d sent each other a memo? Then the recollection that Kylo was able to use the Force wiped the smile from my face. What if he used it on me, to read my mind? This evening could very easily turn nasty.

 

The last member of the group was Captain Phasma, looking amazing out of armour, in a one-shouldered clinging maxidress, sea green with sparkly silver applique. I couldn’t take my eyes off her – surely Kylo Ren didn’t stand a chance. Perhaps I could play matchmaker – it might deflect their attention from me and Hux, anyway.

 

The hospitality droid handed each of them a flute glass of sparkling wine. One glass remained on the tray – mine, presumably.

 

“So, who’s the fourth guest?” asked Phasma, looking around.

 

“She’ll be with us in a moment,” said Hux, looking at the archway, causing me to duck away. “She just needed to…freshen up. Ah. Here she is.”

 

I couldn’t conceal myself any longer – I had the strong feeling that he knew I was lurking. I stepped out of the shadows, resisting the need to tug at my hem.

 

“Oh!” exclaimed Phasma. “Officer Rome.” She raised her glass to me.

 

Kylo Ren simply stared blankly at me.

 

Hux held out a hand to me. When I was close enough, he linked his arm with mine, clasping our fingers together with proprietorial firmness.

 

“Officer Rome and I have been getting to know each other better, haven’t we, Marillia?” he said.

 

Kylo let out a sardonic little humph of a chuckle. Phasma’s mega-watt smile beamed even brighter.

 

“Really?” she said. “Romance on the base? What do you think of that, Kylo?”

 

She nudged his elbow, but he merely scowled and sipped at his wine.

 

“Yes,” said Hux. “I’m telling you two so that you don’t hear it via deck gossip. Of course it won’t affect our professional dealings. But I think it’s time we made our relationship semi-official, don’t you, Marillia?”

 

I had no idea why he was even asking me. Before broadcast would have been optimum really.

 

“You obviously do,” I said, with my sweetest smile to take any sting out of the words.

 

“Don’t you?” The hint of a frown.

 

“Oh, now, let’s not have a lovers’ tiff already,” said Phasma. “I think it’s very sweet. You work so hard, General – you deserve a little bit of love.”

 

Kylo made his humphing noise again. He wasn’t about to win any Gracious Guest awards.

 

“Thank you, Captain,” said Hux, with a sharp look at Kylo. “Your good wishes are appreciated. Now, I think the table is ready. Shall we go through?”

 

He escorted me into a room I hadn’t yet seen – an entertaining area that was almost as big as the Recreation Hub. The long table in the middle could seat fifty, but was laid only for four, at one end. It glittered with Ondraini silver cutlery and glowed with scented candlelight. There were even flowers, but they turned out to be artificial.

 

He sat at the head of the table, with me on his right hand side and Phasma on his left. Kylo had to make do with the seat next to Phasma, pretty much social Hoth. Whether he was unhappy with this was unclear, since he seemed unhappy with just about everything.

 

“Well, then, my honoured guests,” said Hux, raising his glass. “Let’s drink to the continuing growth and inevitable triumph of the First Order.”

 

“The First Order,” we chorused, clinking glasses. How I longed to take the bottle off the serving droid and drain it from the neck. It was going to be a very long evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So is everyone ready for the Dark Side Dinner Party of Doom? This could get messy. I look forward to all comments, as I seem to have somehow lucked out with the best commenters on AO3.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The two sure things in my life at the moment are Hux and taxes. I've just done my tax return, so now it's Hux time!

“So how long has this been going on?”

 

Captain Phasma’s fork hung tantalisingly close to her lips as she waited for a reply from Hux or me. I thought I’d leave it to Hux. My aim was to get through this dinner party without giving away more than a bland sentence or two. I didn’t want to give our Knight of Ren friend anything to ponder.

 

Hux glanced at me, waiting for me to speak first. When I didn’t, he turned to Phasma.

 

“I can’t answer for Marillia, but I’ve had my eye on her ever since she arrived here. I had a feeling my interest was reciprocated, but I didn’t know for sure until this week.”

 

Kylo smirked into his filet mignon.

 

“Are you sure you aren’t the contingency plan?” he said.

 

“Oh, don’t be like that,” pleaded Phasma, while Hux’s face stiffened and his eyes beamed darts of icy murder at our Force-blessed guest.

 

“I think you misinterpreted me that night,” I said, cursing myself for being drawn in, but finding myself weirdly compelled to stand up for Hux. “I didn’t know who you were – I’d never seen you without your helmet. I just wanted someone to have a drink and a chat with.”

 

“And he looked approachable?” Phasma’s laughter pealed around the vast chamber. “I think that might be the first time anyone’s thought _that_. Oh, don’t look at me like that, Kylo. I’m only teasing.”

 

“I was new to the base and feeling a bit homesick, that was all,” I said. “In fact…” I paused. This would be an unnecessary ego-boost for Hux, but it was the truth, and Kylo Ren couldn’t force-choke me into saying anything different. “…I only went to talk to you because I was so confused about my feelings for the General.”

 

“Really?” said both Hux and Kylo, one sounding distinctly more convinced than the other.

 

“Yes. I’d been attracted to him from the start, but I didn’t think I could possibly stand a chance. I was looking for a distraction. Sorry. I should have left you alone.”

 

Kylo retreated furiously into his wine, while Hux curled a satisfied lip. Sleek, supple boot leather nudged against my sandalled foot, rubbing at the exposed skin. A flare of desire shot through me and I edged my chair a little closer, the better to let my bare leg press against his.

 

“The General,” said Kylo mockingly under his breath. He looked directly at me. “He does have a name, you know. Or hasn’t he told you it?”

 

This stung, because he hadn’t. What kind of man didn’t even tell you his name before fucking you?

 

I looked to him for support, but he was paler than ever, and wordless.

 

“He hasn’t, has he?” jeered Kylo. “Not surprising really. Did you know that his father named him after a great leader of the Empire? But that that great leader wanted his father out?”

 

I looked to Hux. His face was very still, but a vein protruded visibly on his brow.

 

“My father admired Tarkin for what he did,” said Hux, his tone forcibly calm and over-controlled. “He agreed that the Empire shouldn’t tolerate mavericks, even if he did think they missed a trick in adopting his methods. And Tarkin didn’t disapprove of my father’s actions – only the secretive way in which they were carried out.”

 

“You keep telling yourself that, _Wilhuff_ ,” said Kylo.

 

I put a hand over my mouth. Surely that wasn’t his name? His leg jerked against mine.

 

“I prefer Wil, as you well know,” he said. “And I’m surprised that you, of all people, want to bring up the subject of parentage and given names. _Ben_.”

 

There was a clatter of silver and a shriek from Phasma as Kylo leapt to his feet, his hands reaching for his lightsabre hilt.

 

“No, no, sit down, calm down,” cried Phasma, jumping up and wrenching Kylo’s arm away from his belt. “You know what Leader Snoke said to you about self-control. Think about that, Kylo, please.”

 

He tried to break free of Phasma’s grip, but she was both bigger and physically stronger than him, and she held on grimly.

 

Hux sat back, dispassionate and contemptuous, while Kylo slowly mastered his temper and his breathing.

 

“Forgive me,” said Hux with sly faux-humility, once the tantrum had passed. “That was a low blow. I apologise.”

 

Kylo nodded jerkily. Phasma loosened her grip on him and sat back down.

 

“What must Marillia think of us?” Hux continued, sneaking a hand under the table and on to my knee. “Shall we try and behave in a manner befitting the elite of the First Order? Please – sit down. We have important matters to discuss.”

 

Kylo slumped back down, glaring into his dinner plate.

 

“Leader Snoke will want to know our decision very soon,” said Hux – Wil – how should I think of him? Hux still seemed to come the most naturally. He ran his fingers up my thigh, tickling the skin beneath the tight dress hem.

 

“You know my views,” said Kylo.

 

“And you know mine,” parried Hux. His fingertips managed to creep inside the barrier of my dress and travel a little further up my thigh. I sat stock still, as if turned to stone, scared to even pick up my knife and fork in case he did something that made me drop them on to the plate with a crash.

 

“Your decision on what?” I managed to ask. Hux’s fingers were getting higher and higher up my leg, now resting against the tender skin of my inner thigh. I put one of my hands on top of his, arresting its progress.

 

“Kylo wants to take the Finalizer on a mission,” said Hux. “I think another, smaller, vessel would be more than adequate.”

 

“I don’t think so,” said Kylo. “If that planet _is_ a Jedi training camp, it might be allied with a secret rebel base. We’ll need tie-fighters, and several squads of Stormtroopers.”

 

“There are no Jedi training camps,” said Hux dismissively. “The last living Jedi knight is Skywalker, and nobody’s seen him in years. He’s likely to be dead.”

 

“I would _know_ ,” insisted Kylo. “I am sure he is alive. I just don’t know where – but that planet has been used to train Jedi before, and nobody’s checked it out in over a decade. It has to be checked out, Hux.”

 

“I don’t dispute that,” said Hux. “I just don’t think you need the Finalizer.”

 

“Well, Leader Snoke agrees with me that I do,” said Kylo. “You heard what he said. All we have to decide is who will command the mission. You or me.”

 

“Finalizer is my vessel,” said Hux, with something close to a snarl. “Where she goes, I go.”

 

“Then you command it,” said Kylo with a shrug. “I’ll deal with all the planet-level stuff. You wouldn’t know where to look anyway. Put someone in temporary charge of Starkiller – you have enough lieutenants to leave it with for a week. It won’t take any longer than that.”

 

Hux’s pissed-offness mutated into thoughtfulness, then he looked up at Kylo with a blank expression.

 

“Very well then. But no more than a week.”

 

“Will you need me?” asked Phasma brightly.

 

“No,” they replied in two-part harmony, and her face fell.

 

“When will you go?” I asked, sensing a reprieve. With Hux off the base, it would be much easier to find a way of getting back to Kusa B.

 

“We need at least three days to prepare,” decreed Hux. “I have urgent Starkiller business to attend to before I can turn my mind to this.” His fingers pressed hard into my thigh. “I wish I didn’t have to,” he said, in a more intimate tone, for my ears only. “I don’t want to leave you here.”

 

“I’ll survive,” I said briskly. “I can work on that project you mentioned – the Republican interception. It’ll keep my mind off…things.”

 

“I’d rather your mind was on them,” he said, much to Kylo’s obvious disgust. I don’t think he’d ever observed Hux in flirtatious mode before, and it clearly wasn’t to his taste. “Perhaps you could come with us.”

 

I swallowed down my natural response of, “Oh shit, really?!”, but Kylo came unexpectedly to my rescue.

 

“I’d like to see you explain your reasoning to Leader Snoke,” he said, lapsing into a high-pitched wheedling tone. “Please, Supweme Leader, can I bwing my girlfwiend with me?”

 

For a moment it looked as if Hux was going to be the one to kick over the table and put his hand to Kylo’s throat.  Instead, he gripped my thigh so tightly he was bound to leave bruises, and his adam’s apple bobbed.

 

“No, you’re right,” he said with forced civility. “I mustn’t allow personal business to cloud my professional judgement. There’s no operational justification for Officer Rome to join us, so she’ll stay here.”

 

I twitched my leg a bit, to make it clear he was hurting me. He released his grip and patted me gently, a tactile apology.

 

“Never mind, officer,” said Phasma cheerfully. “It’ll be all girls together. You can come to my quarters for dinner one night.”

 

“Thanks,” I said. “I’d like that.” I left out the rest of the sentence: “ _I’d like that opportunity to quiz you about Stormtroopers and their lives.”_

Actually, perhaps I could glean a little information here and now. A change of subject seemed to be in order anyway, to give Hux and Kylo a chance to retreat from sparring into their respective corners.

 

“Have you always been a Stormtrooper, then?” I asked her.

 

“Well, yes, of course,” she said. “I mean, not as a child, obviously. But I was raised by my family to be one.”

 

“And your family were Stormtroopers too?”

 

“Yes, in the service of the Empire. We moved out here after the accord, but they never stopped being Stormtroopers. They were among the first in the service of the First Order.” She beamed proudly.

 

“Are they still Stormtroopers now?” I asked.

 

Her beaming smile faded.

 

“No. My father was killed in action. My mother is on Iralos.”

 

“Oh, Iralos. I’ve heard of it. Do you get much chance to visit her?”

 

“Visitors are forbidden on Iralos – didn’t you know? But I will see her again when my own time comes.”

 

What a sparkling prospect. I thought about what I’d heard about soldiers in the service of the First Order retiring at thirty five. By that reckoning, if my parents were alive, they were likely to be on Iralos. I would need to find out more about this place.

 

“So you were raised to be a Stormtrooper by your own family,” I continued, trying to sound merely idly curious, aware that Hux and Kylo were becoming rather bored with the conversation. “You weren’t one of the ones that were…taken?”

 

“We don’t think of it as ‘taken’, Marillia,” cautioned Hux. “We think of it as ‘saved’.”

 

I chewed at my lip to suppress my emotions.

 

“They’re programmed from infancy,” I said dully. “I know about that. But don’t you sometimes… _save_ …adults too?”

 

“We’ve stopped doing that now,” said Phasma. “They were much more difficult to train. Most of them were terribly maladaptive.”

 

My words struggled to find a way through my blocked throat. “And what happened to them?” I asked thickly. I knew I shouldn’t be asking this here, and now, when I might not be able to take the answer. But I couldn’t stop myself. “Did you…did they…did you let them live?”

 

All three of them were looking at me with varying degrees of concern, from Phasma’s tilted head, through Kylo’s narrowed eyes, to Hux’s hard stare. I think they had all detected a shade of accusation in the question.

 

“We don’t kill our own,” said Phasma, sounding shocked. “Unless they commit a crime. Those that weren’t fit for the ranks were given other, less important, tasks to do in the service of the Order. The majority of them went to the mines on Iralos, or were used in construction.”

 

Iralos again. But at least my worst fear hadn’t been realised. It was unlikely, at least, that my parents had been murdered.

 

All the same, a dizzy nausea swept over me and I had to shut my eyes, willing it to pass quickly.

 

“Are you all right?” I couldn’t hide anything from Hux, apparently.

 

“Bit…maybe a bit too much wine…would you excuse me for a moment?”

 

I got up and tottered off to the bathroom without waiting for a response. Once safely locked inside, I sat on the toilet lid with my head on my knees, breathing, breathing, calm, calm.

 

I _had_ to get off this base. I had to get to Kusa B. I had to find out where my parents were – the balance of probabilities suggested Iralos. Where was it? Was it far away? If I learned to fly a tie-fighter, could I go there and rescue them? How would I learn to fly a tie-fighter? How was anything possible now that General Hux had his beady eye on me at all times?

 

Even now.

 

There was a bang on the door.

 

“Marillia, what’s wrong? Are you ill?”

 

I wiped my leaking eyes with toilet roll and went to the sink to splash my face.

 

“Fine,” I said, too high-pitched. “Maybe something I ate…”

 

“Can I get you anything?” I should hate him, but the genuine concern in his voice yanked at my heartstrings.

 

“No, no, I’m OK. I’ll be out in a minute.”

 

A pause, then, “I’ll wait for you.”

 

“No, go back to your guests. I won’t be long.”

 

“I think Captain Phasma was hoping to be left alone with Kylo, to be honest.”

 

I let out a hiccuppy laugh. Yes, no doubt he was right about that. There was nothing else for it – if he was going to stand outside the door like a sentry, I might as well come out.

 

I made some final adjustments in front of the mirror and unlocked the door. Hux, who had been leaning against the jamb, straightened up and took one of my hands, cupping my face to look earnestly into it.

 

“You’re very pale,” he murmured. “Do you want to go and lie down?”

 

It sounded like a plan. I didn’t want to go back to the meal, especially not now, with the sound of Phasma’s slightly drunken, crazy laughter and a shout of indignation from Kylo floating through the chambers. Better to leave them to it, apparently.

 

“Would you mind? I’m sorry – I don’t want to appear rude in front of your guests, but…”

 

“It’s not a problem,” he said, smiling sadly and drawing me into his arms. I stood there for a moment, shutting my eyes and falling into space as he stroked my hair, so, so gently. Why couldn’t I muster the appropriate hatred? I was a hopeless rebel and a terrible daughter. “As long as you’re all right. You must let me take care of you.”

 

I sighed helplessly and held on to him. I could hold on to him all night if necessary.

 

It wasn’t necessary, however. He disengaged, slowly, led me into his bedroom and sat me down on the bed. He bent to untie my shoe ribbons and stayed, kneeling by the bed, as I lay down.

 

“Get some rest,” he whispered, kissing my forehead. “I’ll bring you something from my pharma cabinet, once I’ve got rid of them.”

 

“Thanks.” I reached out and squeezed his hand gratefully.

 

He left and I dashed a fist to my brow. If he would just stop this perfect boyfriend stuff, I could hate him in peace. Why couldn’t he just be an out-and-out swine? It would make my life so much easier.

 

I lay in the dark, looking up at his starry glass ceiling, wondering if any of the brilliant dots out there was Iralos.

 

“Hi, mum. Hi, dad,” I whispered. “I hope you’re OK. Don’t worry about me. I’m just falling for the architect of your slavery. Oh Lord. What am I going to do? Any ideas?”

 

Answer came there none.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup, I went there with the first name thing. Having discounted it as being ridiculous, I then rethought and decided it was both funny and hot (Wil Hux is pretty sexy, non?). So there!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I should preface this with a warning, but I'm not sure how to word it. There's emotional and sexual content ahead. Just go careful in there, OK?

 

About half an hour later, Hux returned with a glass of water and a blister pack of pills.

 

“How are you feeling now?” he asked.

 

“Oh, all right, really,” I said. “Bit headachey, but nothing serious. I don’t think I ate anything dodgy. I think I was just a bit upset about you having to go away on the Finalizer.” As convenient lies went, it was a good one. He seemed terribly pleased to hear it.

 

“I wish I didn’t have to,” he sighed. “It’s a fool’s errand and I don’t want to leave you either. But we can screen-conference, of course. Every night.”

 

“Mm,” I said, mildly alarmed at this prospect.

 

“Well,” he said, perching beside me and putting his palm against my brow. “You aren’t feverish. Take one of these all the same. They’re high-grade mild analgesics made from the sap of the alio plant. Not generally available, but I find they work wonders.”

 

“Do you suffer much with headaches then?” I asked, gulping it down.

 

“Only when I’ve been spending a lot of time with Kylo Ren,” he said.

 

I stifled a laugh. “You two don’t get on, do you?”

 

He rolled his eyes and swung his long legs up on to the bed, settling in beside me with an arm around my shoulders.

 

“Don’t repeat any of this, but I find him endlessly frustrating,” he admitted. “I don’t pretend to understand the mysteries of the Force, but I can’t help wondering why it was given to somebody with so little self-control.”

 

“As opposed to you,” I said. “Who has it to spare.”

 

He widened his eyes, giving me a long look. “You think I’m jealous of him?”

 

“I didn’t say that. But are you?”

 

He looked straight ahead.

 

“As I’ve said, I don’t think he makes the best use of his abilities,” he said after a while.

 

“You’d use them differently?” I hazarded.

 

“Yes, I _would_ ,” said Hux warmly. “I wouldn’t let my personal feelings hold me back. I’d be far further along the path to total mastery than he is by now.”

 

“You’ve thought about this, then.”

 

He laughed, a brittle self-conscious laugh.

 

“Guilty,” he said. “It’s a waste of energy, I know. But as children, we all like to imagine that we have it, don’t we? Didn’t you?”

 

“Perhaps, a bit,” I admitted, remembering fraught ‘lightsabre’ duels in the playground with sticks. It seemed funny to think of the boy Hux doing the same thing. I could just see him now, all elbows and knees and that bright orange hair, skin that bruised like a peach.

 

“Except you would have played at being a Jedi,” he said, animated with wonder at such an alien thought. “Wouldn’t you? Or Leia Organa, or somebody like that. We all wanted to be Darth Vader, of course.” He broke off and feigned Darth-Vaderish breathing. “Take that, Skywalker!” he intoned, well below his natural register. He laughed, then sobered abruptly. “It was all fun and games until my father forbade it.”

 

“He forbade it? I thought he would have approved.”

 

Hux’s mouth twisted, an attempt at a smile that didn’t quite come off.

 

“No. He disapproved of the Force. He always hoped it would die out eventually, leaving the field clear for men with military expertise and an aptitude for command.”

 

“Men like him? And you?” I suggested.

 

“Men like us,” he confirmed.

 

“Not women?”

 

“Well, you know. Traditionally, it has been men. I’m not saying…”

 

“I know. I don’t mean to sound critical. I’m just interested, that’s all. I can’t imagine what it must have been like, to grow up in the ashes of the old Empire. Is your father still alive?”

 

“Yes, both my parents are alive. They are both elderly now, though. They weren’t young when I was born – my mother was forty-two, my father fifty-five. I’ll take you to meet them sometime, when this wretched mission is over.”

 

“Lord,” I said, and his eyes questioned me. “I mean, are we there already? Meeting the parents?”

 

He pulled me tighter into him. “I think so,” he said softly. “I understand it must be difficult for you, as somebody without family. But they’ll accept you as their own.”

 

“Will they?” I wasn’t convinced. Everything I’d heard about Brendol Hux suggested that he really wasn’t my kind of guy. But then, on paper, neither was his son.

 

“Of course. If they know that you are my choice, they’ll welcome you.”

 

These were scary times, but the idea of meeting the Huxes seemed to take things to another level. Similarly worrying was my thirst to know more – much more – everything – about the man beside me. On the one hand, if I knew how he had developed into what he was, perhaps it would help the rebel cause, knowledge being power and all that. But on the other, the deeper I travelled into his psyche, the more likely it was that I would start to understand and sympathise with him. Was that a risk I was prepared to take? Ultimately, I was here to help put a stop to him and the First Order. It would be best keep that at the forefront of my mind, at all times.

 

“Right,” I said. “So, I’ll have to remember not to play with my toy lightsabre while I’m there, I guess.”

 

His cheekbones twitched. “Definitely not.”

 

“What happened when you weren’t allowed to play any more? Did the other kids leave you out of their games?” Poor lonely little Wil Hux.

 

“No,” he said, with the ghost of a sigh. “My father decided that it wasn’t enough that I didn’t join in. I had to stop everyone else playing as well. Every time my father saw a fake lightsabre duel taking place anywhere in our Sector, _I_ was punished. So it was up to me to make everyone stop.”

 

“That’s cruel,” I said, feeling the pang of it, a blade to the heart.

 

“No,” he said vehemently, rounding on me. “My father was right to do it. It eradicated the problem and, furthermore, it taught me to take responsibility for those weaker than myself. My father despises weakness, so he taught me to be strong. It was his gift to me and I will be forever grateful for it.”

 

I took a long breath. What chance had he ever stood of leading a good life? It was hopeless. His indoctrination was complete, and probably irreversible.

 

“He made you who you are,” I said hollowly.

 

“Yes,” said Hux, calming down. “Exactly. But you must tell me more of yourself. What brought you to us, from the heartland of the Republic?”

 

“Oh, there were people at the Institute,” I said vaguely. “They made me see that I would do better for myself with the First Order than the Republic. I mean, I would have to climb the ranks for years in the Republic to get to the kind of work I’m doing now. I saw that you valued ability ahead of experience, and that was what I was looking for.”

 

“Yes, we do,” Hux nodded. “Your ambition is one of the things that drew me to you. And you had no family loyalties to fight against. I suppose…there was no other tie?”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I mean, I know I’m not your _first_ …”

 

“Oh!” Heat flooded my face. “Oh, no, there was nobody I really cared for. Silly teenage crushes, that’s all.” I paused, watching his gratified smirk. “How about you?”

 

“Like you, nothing serious,” he said. “As I’ve said before, my mind has been on other things. I wasn’t ready for anything more until now.” He paused. “You must tell me if we ever run into your former lovers. I have some weapons I could trial…”

 

I gasped. “Oh, you don’t mean that!”

 

“I do mean it. I’m jealous of everybody who got to you before I did. I’d like to wipe them all out.”

 

“Well, there’s no need, because I really have no intention of ever seeing them again.”

 

He shifted on to one elbow, facing me, and put his palm over my forehead.

 

“How are you feeling now?”

 

“Better,” I admitted. Those pills were pretty amazing; they seemed to have cleared my mood along with my head. I felt bright, optimistic and brimming with energy again.

 

“Good,” he said. “Because there was something I wanted to bring up with you.”

 

The optimism snagged a little. At the back of my mind I always worried that he was on to me, stringing me along, preparing for the big showdown which would end with a bullet to the brain.

 

“Oh?” I said, trying to keep any fear out of my voice.

 

“Yes.” He ran one fingertip from my neck, along my collarbone, down into the dip of my breasts. “Something…I didn’t originally plan to discuss with you at all. But…something tells me…it might be worth mentioning…”

 

He was nervous. What the hell was this about? I sat up a little, all ears and eyes.

 

“What is it?”

 

He swallowed and looked up at the stars, as if asking their advice, for a few moments.

 

“I don’t want to frighten you off,” he said after a while. “Perhaps I should just leave it.”

 

“Frighten me off? You’re General Hux. If I frightened easily, I wouldn’t be here at all.”

 

He liked that, bending to kiss my lips before continuing.

 

“That’s a good point,” he said. “All right. I’ll just come out with it, then. Earlier on, when you first arrived here, I wanted to see how you’d react, if you see what I mean…”

 

“You mean, when you jumped me in the hallway?”

 

“If you want to put it like that. I wanted to see if you liked it. How far I could go with you.”

 

“I see.” I knew now what was coming. Tessia had given me enough to think about – and it was lucky that she had, because I was prepared and completely unafraid.

 

“Do you?”

 

“I think so. You have some, er, non-standard tastes, perhaps? Kinks, we might say?”

 

“We might say that,” he said, swallowing. “And that doesn’t scare you?”

 

I held his gaze, unable to break away. I knew I might be getting into deep waters here, but I couldn’t seem to stop wading.

 

“I haven’t…I’ve never done anything like that,” I admitted in a whisper. “But I’ve thought about it. Often.”

 

“You have?” He was whispering too. It was as if neither of us dared to raise our voices, in case the walls disapproved of us. “What have you thought about? Tell me.”

 

“The way I felt when I was with you earlier,” I said. “Absolutely overpowered. Helpless. Unable to resist you.”

 

“Yes?” His eyes gleamed; he was lapping this up.

 

“I liked that. It was very…intense.”

 

“Do you think you’d like to take it further?” he asked.

 

“How further?”

 

“I could tie you up. Blindfold you. Both. Make you beg for me. Make you beg me to stop.”

 

Lord, I had to turn away from him. My heart was pounding, and that wasn’t my only physiological response. In the pie chart of my desires, a small slice of me was marked _Back away now_ whilst the remainder represented a resounding _Yes, can we do this right away, please._

 

“No, don’t do that,” he said, more sharply. “Look at me. I’m opening myself up to you – I won’t have you shut yourself away from me. You can say no if you want. I won’t hold it against you. Just – stay with me.”

 

I forced myself back into eye contact with him.

 

“I’m sorry,” I said. “This is a difficult thing to admit to myself, let alone to you.”

 

“I understand that,” he said, mollified. “But you do admit it?”

 

I nodded. I felt as if I might start hyperventilating if I opened my mouth. _What in the galaxy are you signing yourself up for, Rome?_

 

He shut his eyes, almost shuddering with rapture, then lay back down beside me, his hand at my neck, his forehead nudging mine.

 

“I’m the luckiest man alive,” he said. “It’s as if you were made for me.”

 

My breath caught in my throat. I buried my face in his shoulder, unable to look at him any more. He didn’t tell me off this time, just wrapped his arms around me and kissed my ear, preparatory to murmuring into it.

 

“Don’t worry, we can start slowly. Build up. See where it takes us. I want you to be happy with me, Marillia, that’s all. I won’t do anything you don’t want.”

 

His gently spoken words drifted inside my ear canal, into my brain, flowering down and outwards through my entire body until they zeroed in between my legs. Everything felt fluttery and weak, as if I might dissolve into the mattress and leave nothing but a me-shaped stain.

 

I thought _I think I’m in love with you_ , and screwed my brain up against it, trying to push it out, but it was there now. Out there. Expressed, never to be unexpressed.

 

“So,” he said, after holding me close for a minute or two. “Do you want to try something now? Or are you tired?”

 

“I’m not tired,” I said. He found my lips with his and we lay in a tight embrace, kissing on and on, until he broke off suddenly and sat up. He thrust out one arm and clicked his fingers, and one shiny black wall panel slid aside, to reveal a dim cavern of a closet. I couldn’t make out what might be inside from this distance, but my pulse was hammering at the possibilities.

 

He got up and went to rummage around in it.

 

“Take off that dress,” he said, his back to me. “And anything else you might have on. Hmm, what have we here?” I heard jingling and my heartbeat jumped. I pulled my tight dress over my head – the updo was still miraculously intact – and removed my underwear, wanting to be ready before he turned around. I sat with my knees drawn up to my chin and my arms clasped around them, hiding the more salient points of my naked body until I was ordered otherwise. I watched him from the side of my eye, digging my nails into my skin, seeing occasional startling silhouettes and sleek outlines in the murky depths.

 

“Just this to start with,” he said to himself. When he turned back to me, he held a length of black silk, something easily mistaken for a scarf or a wide ribbon, if you didn’t know its true purpose. Knowing its true purpose, I held my breath until he sat down on the side of the bed and made me unclasp my arms, prising me out of my hiding place.

 

He wrapped the ends of the silk around his fists and pulled it taut. I released my breath all at once.

 

“Give me your wrists,” he said. It wasn’t spoken like an order, yet there was an absolute expectation that what he asked would be done, without question. Mutely I held them out.

 

He drew my arms up above my head, then, kneeling up, bandaged my wrists in the silk, looping it round and round each one in turn, and then around both, until they felt snugly, but not painfully, secured together. He knotted it tight, ensuring that an equal length of the material was left trailing from each side. His craftsmanlike attention to his work, and to my perfect display, was sensually enthralling. I sat up with my arms in the air, bound together at the wrists, feeling like a piece of erotic statuary. The pose thrust out my breasts and made me keep my eyes fixed on his. When he had finished, he smiled gloatingly and reached for my hair.

 

“This can come down now,” he breathed, pulling out the pins until the updo was a downdo, its silky tips spilling over my shoulders and breasts. He ran his fingers through it, then let them linger on the curves of my breasts, tracing his thumbs over my nipples until they were achingly engorged.

 

He waited until I couldn’t suppress a little mew of desire, then told me to lie down. I pivoted at the waist, unable to use my hands to help me. Once I was on my back with my arms over my head, he took the ends of the silk and, one at a time, secured each one to the corner posts of the headboard. His knees were on either side of my chest for this operation, and the heady scent of the bantha-leather sent my senses into an even more delirious spin.

 

“Pull,” he said. “See if you can move.”

 

I tried. I couldn’t. I was utterly restrained.

 

“That’s good,” he said. “Isn’t it?”

 

“Mm hmm,” I said.

 

“Oh, I don’t know about ‘ _mm hmm_ ’,” he chided, scooting back to admire the overall effect. “You need to be clearer than that. Try ‘Yes, sir’.”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

“Excellent. Right then.” He let a hand drift down over my belly and hips, so lightly it tickled and made me arch my back and kick a little. “Are you ticklish, Marillia?”

 

“Oh, please, don’t,” I gasped. “I hate it. Hate tickling.”

 

“Noted. But if you’re going to kick, I’ll have to restrain your ankles too. Can you keep them still?”

 

“As long as you don’t tickle me, I’ll try my best,” I said.

 

“All right. I promise not to.” He took off his shirt and crouched over me, kissing each nipple in turn, then he spent tormenting ages flicking and teasing them with the tip of his tongue, until I was arching my back again and trying to level my pelvis with his in unspoken but urgent appeal.

 

He lifted his head from my breasts. “The more you try and rush me, the longer I’ll take,” he said. “You don’t dictate the pace here. I do.”

 

Oh Lord. My unyielding bonds, the creak of leather as he moved over me, his hot breath on my swollen buds all conspired to make me feel as if I might go mad if I couldn’t come soon. I tried my absolute hardest not to let my body make my plea for me, but when he slid his fingers between my lower lips and began to rub, every one of my nerve endings lit up in celebration.

 

I wasn’t going to be let off that easily, though – he took it slowly, stopping every now and then just to enjoy the many various ways my body had of showing that it really, really wanted him to carry on. Sometimes he pushed a finger or two inside me, only to withdraw when I showed signs of being close to the edge. He watched, and calculated, and made mental notes of the way I responded to his every move. Only when he had the full inventory did he take pity on me.

 

“Should I let you come, Marillia?” he asked.

 

By this time I was a twisty, moany, sweaty, barely articulate mess. It was a good thing the silk was strong stuff, or I’d have ripped it into shreds long ago.

 

“Please,” I whimpered.

 

He set his wicked hands to work, finding the perfect combination of firm touch and sweet spot without difficulty. In less than a minute, he had me crying out my climax, milking it from me in a long wave of blissful abjection. It was like being taken out of my body, out of my mind, and thrown into a net that he would close around me until I could never escape. The poison was in my bloodstream. I was addicted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need some of those pills of Hux's now. Wonder where he got them. Thanks for reading, reviews are the new black, unless we're talking Hux's black uniform, which is also the new black.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all reviewers and kudos-givers - I'm joining the ranks of those of you who are conflicted about wanting Hux to be happy/wanting him to get what he deserves. It's SO difficult! But I think I might have the glimmer of a solution. Anyway, this chapter might seem at first to be nothing but filth, but there is a plot point or two lurking in there somewhere...

The thought of having to go into work the next day almost made me cry. I woke up in Hux’s bed, after about two and three quarter hours of sleep, with arms that felt as if they’d been wrenched from their sockets.

 

He lay beside me, still sleeping, barely-there eyelashes fluttering on his alabaster skin. I wondered what he dreamed of. Did he have nightmares? He already lived in one.

 

The black silk still hung from the bedposts, left there after my wrists had been released. Finally. He’d used his fingers and tongue alternately to drain me of every last iota of energy, then he’d fed himself into my mouth, slowly, inch by inch, rocking while I sucked and eventually drank him down. Even then, exhausted as we were, we couldn’t sleep, couldn’t come down from the intense emotional and physiological high we were on. We’d lain together, just kissing, for hours.

 

I shut my eyes, feeling tears. I was in far too deep now. I was never going to be able to extricate myself from the ties he bound me in, literally or metaphorically. I had a bone-deep need to get him out of here, to safety, away from all this First Order insanity. But he _was_ the First Order. He had created much of the insanity. It was his life, and he was completely integral to it. It was impossible; an insoluble problem to rival the Henlix Theorem.

 

I stared up at the lightening sky while the tears leaked out and ran down the sides of my face. When I sniffed, I felt him shift, and I grabbed the drooping silk to blot away the evidence of my distress before it could be seen.

 

He made a sound of languid satisfaction, reaching out for me without opening his eyes. I allowed myself to be gathered, rolling up against his sleep-warm body until his early morning erection made itself evident. Before too long we were kissing with sore lips that didn’t care, tangling our legs together, joining at the hips. He entered me like a knife into butter and we greeted the morning with yet more orgasms, mildly surprised that we had any more in us.

 

“All mornings should start this way,” he said with a yawn, tapping his wrist to summon the hospitality droid with caffa.

 

“Without the shoulder pain,” I amended, wincing as I sat myself up on my elbows.

 

“Shoulder pain?”

 

“General upper arm, shoulder, side of chest area,” I corrected. “Muscle strain.”

 

“Oh, from the…”

 

“Yes, from the…”

 

He picked up one end of the silk and twirled it around in his fingers.

 

“I’ve warned you before about keeping yourself in good condition,” he said. “If you’d been working on your upper body, it wouldn’t have hurt you at all. So I assume you haven’t.”

 

Ugh, busted. I hadn’t gone to the Starkiller gym since arriving here.

 

“Not…every day,” I said.

 

He wasn’t falling for that one.

 

“How often then?”

 

“I don’t like public gym facilities,” I moaned.

 

“Are you telling me that you haven’t been doing any form of exercise at all?”

 

“Well, I wouldn’t say _that_ ,” I said coyly, taking a cup of steaming caffa from the droid.

 

“Bedroom gymnastics aside,” said Hux severely. He seemed to be taking this very seriously.

 

“All right, I admit it, I hate all that kind of thing. After that year of military training, I didn’t want to see the inside of a gymnasium ever again.” I shuddered, remembering the endless bloody press-ups. I’d thought my arms were going to actually fall off.

 

“This isn’t good,” tutted Hux. “I need you in peak physical condition. I need everyone on this base in peak physical condition, but you in particular. Isn’t your health important to you?”

 

“Well…”

 

“If it isn’t important to you, it is to me,” he said, really sounding quite angry. I concentrated on my caffa, deciding it was best to let him rant it out. “I can’t have you succumbing to illness or failing health, Marillia. If you don’t have the will or the self-discipline to take care of yourself, then I’ll have to provide it for you.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“If you don’t like using the gym on the Recreation Deck, that’s a problem I can solve. You can use my private facilities. And you will. Every day, without fail.”

 

“Private’s better, I suppose,” I said unenthusiastically.

 

“Every morning before you go on Deck,” said Hux. “For a minimum of forty five minutes.”

 

“But I don’t really have the right kit.” I drained the caffa, knowing that this was a losing battle.

 

“I don’t care if you do it naked,” he said. “In fact…” and for the first time, his stern demeanour seemed to give way to something less intimidating. “Mmm. No, you ought to have clothes, I suppose. Get some from the stores, for Sith’s sake. Do it today. Your regime starts tomorrow.”

 

“If I must,” I sighed.

 

“You absolutely must.” He put down his caffa, his voice softening. “It’s only because you’re so important to me, Marillia, you must see that. I’m doing this for you. Will you do it for me?”

 

“For you only,” I said. “I wouldn’t do it for anyone else.” Which was true.

 

“Good girl,” he said, twirling a strand of my hair around one finger. “Now lie down on your stomach. I have something in my pharma cabinet that will ease that muscular pain.”

 

He was right about that. It took him no longer than ten minutes of fingers and salve in perfect harmony for me to feel restored and able to swing my arms from the shoulders again.

 

“What else have you got in that cabinet of yours?” I asked, pulling on my nearly-indecent dress in preparation for a quick elevator-trip-of-shame back to my own quarters. “Anything to compensate for lost sleep?”

 

“You can sleep all you like when I’m away on this blasted mission,” he said, dressing in singlet and shorts for his own morning workout. “The three nights leading up to it might be a little hectic though.” He smirked at me and I bit my lip back.

 

“I’m not sure I’ll live that long at this rate,” I said.

 

He came over to me, putting his hands on my shoulders.

 

“Oh, you’d better,” he said. “I need you to live as long as I do.”

 

The idea of losing him, either to death or to our opposing ideologies, flooded into me. For a moment I couldn’t speak, or think, or even see.

 

“What’s wrong,” he said, grazing his knuckles along my cheekbone. “Marillia?”

 

“Oh…nothing,” I said, struggling to pull myself together. “I’m just tired. I’ll go down to my quarters and have a shower. Might wake me up a bit.”

 

“You do that,” he said. “And get some sleep during your quarter break. You’re going to need it.”

 

“I will,” I said, leaning in to meet his offered lips.

 

“If I don’t see you on the Deck, I’ll see you here at twenty one,” he said, breaking off and steering me to his door. “I’ll be with our Leader until then, or I’d make it earlier. Eat first. I suspect we’ll go straight to bed.”

 

Mortifyingly, Captain Phasma beat me to the lift, on her way down to muster her troops.

 

“Heavy night?” she asked. I could hear her grin through the silver helmet.

 

“Moderately,” I muttered.

 

“I’ve heard he’s a bit demanding,” she said. “On and off the Deck.”

 

I made a non-committal sound in return, hugging myself in self-defence.

 

“How about you?” I deflected. “Any luck with you-know-who?”

 

She grunted. “He’ll crack one of these days. I’m getting closer.”

 

“He’d be crazy not to,” I said, meaning it. “You looked amazing last night.”

 

“Thanks. So, you and Hux. Do I hear wedding bells?”

 

“Oh, stop it,” I flustered. “It’s been, like, four days or something.”

 

“I’ve known the General for years. He knows what he wants, and nothing stands in his way. You’d better be sure you’re serious about him.”

 

I made a silent plea for the lift to arrive at my floor soon.

 

“How long have you known him?” I asked, playing for time.

 

“We were at the academy together. We’re the same age, you know. I could tell you a few stories about him…maybe I will, when we meet up for that drink.”

 

“I’ll look forward to that,” I said. The elevator stopped and the door slid sideways. “See you later.”

 

I spent every break time that day catching up with sleep. Hux didn’t appear on the Deck all day, which seemed to give everyone else the idea that they could whisper and stare at me at their leisure. I sat at my console, self-conscious about my itchy, dry eyes and my kiss-swollen lips, aware that everyone was speculating about what I’d been doing that night. And they probably weren’t far wrong.

 

“Do you mind my asking,” said Leva hesitantly before heading off for her break. “Is there any truth in the rumour…?”

 

“Yes,” I said. Why not be honest about it? It wouldn’t hurt me if people knew I was shagging General Hux. It would keep them in line and off my back.

 

“Oh. Right. OK.” She scuttled off. I had gone from being the wet-behind-the-ears newbie to a member of the feared elite, just like that.

 

“Everybody knows about us,” I said, presenting myself on Hux’s threshold at twenty one hundred precisely.

 

“I don’t mind,” he said, drawing me in by my elbow. “Do you?”

 

He kissed me for long enough to ensure that I didn’t mind about anything at all, from office gossip to the implosion of the universe.

 

“Not really,” I shivered.

 

“Good. Now, I’ve had as much as I can stand of this day. Let’s go to bed.”

 

“Didn’t your meeting with the Leader go well?” I asked, as he hustled me through the apartment.

 

“There were points of divergence,” he said through gritted teeth, “in our strategies for putting an end to the Republic.” He aimed me at the bed and pushed hard. I landed in a sprawl, falling back into the silky slickness of it.

 

“Do you need somebody to take out your frustrations on?” I guessed, bizarrely thrilled by the idea.

 

“Perhaps I do,” he said, shrugging off his coat and throwing it over a chair. “Get your clothes off.”

 

I set to work as quickly as I could, keeping my eyes locked on his, like a small creature trying to judge when the snake will strike them down. He unclipped his belt and dropped it next to me on the bed before removing his tunic. Underneath it, his fine-knit black sweater clung to his upper body like skin.

 

One garment at a time, we stripped down to our bare selves, boots falling in a mixed heap on the floor, clothes ending up any old where. When I was naked I settled back on my elbows, aware of my precarious position and the unmistakable intent written in his eyes, inviting him to lay waste to me.

 

For an exhilarating few seconds, he just stood there, looking me up and down, and I could almost see the thoughts running through his head – what would he do to me? What _wouldn’t_ he do to me?

 

Then he made his move, landing on his knees on the edge of the bed, and grabbed me round the waist, turning me roughly until I was prone. He positioned me on all fours with my spine downwards and his hand on my neck.

 

“Do you know how it feels to know exactly what needs to be done, but to be blocked at every turn by people who insist you don’t understand? Because you aren’t into all the mystical woo-woo fairy-fey bollocks and you like to take a more realistic approach?”

 

“Not…really,” I told the bedspread, though I felt he didn’t really require an answer.

 

“Do you know how it feels to have these bastards constantly making out that you lack something, that you’re inferior to them, that you will never be everything they can be?”

 

“Snoke? And Kylo Ren?” I whispered.

 

“Snoke, and the whole fucking fancy-dress conjuring circle that calls itself the Knights of Ren,” he hissed.

 

Intimidating as all this was, I was quite enjoying his way with words, and the general breathless exhilaration of it.

 

“They’ll be the first against the wall when I’m Emperor,” he said, and I breathed in sharply. He genuinely thought he was going to be Emperor one day? Or was it a joke? He sounded serious. “I don’t need them. The First Order doesn’t need them. There’s only one Jedi left, if he’s even alive. They’re redundant now. What this galaxy needs is clear command and strong leadership.”

 

I wondered if there was going to be any sex, or whether it would all be rhetoric now. My idle thoughts were rudely interrupted by the crack of fast-travelling hand on unsuspecting bare arse.

 

It didn’t hurt that much, but the shock of it made me scream.

 

“Shit, are you all right?” Hux shook out of his megalomaniac trance, loosening his grip on my neck and stroking the hand-shaped area of hot skin he’d created on my rear. “That was harder than I intended. I’m sorry.”

 

“I’m fine,” I said, with a slightly manic laugh. “Just…took me by surprise.”

 

“You’re sure? You don’t mind if I…?”

 

“Uh, no. It’s actually…I kind of like it. You could do it again, if you wanted.”

 

He cupped one cheek and squeezed it thoughtfully.

 

“You have the bright red imprint of my hand on you now,” he said. “I like that. I’d like you to stay like that, if only it were possible. So you want me to add some more?”

 

“If you like,” I said. That one hard smack had set me buzzing between my thighs. I felt a tightness in my belly that signalled the need for more, harder, right now.

 

“I do like. Tell me if it gets too much.”

 

I promised I would, and he set to work in earnest. I wasn’t sure if my bottom was standing in for the representatives of the Force, or the galaxy in general, but he certainly meant to make his mark on it. I appreciated the metaphor as the heat and sting grew and the bedroom resounded with the echoes of his percussive efforts.

 

His breathing grew ever heavier and his voice was hoarse when he said, “All right, that’s enough now, stay where you are.”

 

I could barely have moved anyway. I was all jelly legs, heat and soreness, just kneeling there with my face crushed against the bedcovers and my fingers curled tight. I was dripping wet and I wanted him in me without further delay.

 

Oh, the sweet relief when he took hold of my hips and surged into me from behind – I was more than ready. I pushed myself back, wanting to feel every inch of him stretching me as far as I would go. The jolting of his pelvis rubbed against my sore backside every time he thrust, and it was gloriously raw and dirty and subjugating. I wanted to feel completely his, and he made me feel it.

 

The bed shook and the headboard clattered from the force of it. I could never have kept up that kind of pace myself – all I could do was cower in awe and take it.

 

I was dizzy, seeing stars, when he slowed down just a little and prodded a finger between my cheeks.

 

“Has anyone had this?” he asked, his breath jagged, voice guttural. He probed harder, pushing against the tight opening.

 

“No,” I mewed, suddenly more scared, and more ridiculously turned on, that I’d ever been. Surely he wouldn’t…?

 

“Good. All for me, then.” I thought he might push his finger further, and I tensed up against the invasion, but he didn’t. He just got back into his blistering rhythm, rubbing between my cheeks as a little reminder of what was to come, until I fell forward and collapsed, crying his name in the blackening swirl of orgasm.

 

He pulled me back to my knees, but he had to hold me tight and upright in order to finish inside me like that, because every bone in my body had given up on me. When he was done, and I was brimming with the upshot, he lay down on top of me, pressing my breasts and stomach into the mattress, and rested his chin on my shoulder. His hair mixed with mine, our damp cheeks met, his evening growth of stubble prickling my skin.

 

“My Emperor,” I said dreamily, half-delirious now, still unable to bring my vision into focus.

 

“Ohhh, Marillia,” he sighed, deeply gratified. “You will be my Empress.” He paused. “But you mustn’t repeat that to anyone, of course. It’s strictly between us.”

 

“I won’t tell a soul,” I said. “But can’t Leader Snoke read your thoughts or whatever? Like Kylo Ren claims to be able to? Couldn’t that be a bit awkward?”

 

“If I don’t give them cause, they won’t,” he said. “But I shouldn’t have said anything to you. I don’t want you to feel at risk.”

 

“It’s you I worry for,” I said, and it was true - weirdly and horribly true.

 

“I know you do,” he said, kissing my ear. “But I can look after myself. And you. I love you, Marillia.”

 

“I love you too,” I said, and all the Force-mind-reading wiles of the Knights of Ren wouldn’t have been able to detect it as a lie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The L word! This is a tangle and a half. All reviews super-duper-welcome.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PSA: Always a good idea to keep re-reading your earlier chapters. I did this for the first time last night and found out that Marillia actually *had* been to the Starkiller gym, albeit only once. Gah. Also, I'd completely forgotten that she hadn't studied on her home planet. But everything else seems to be holding together somehow...

“Do you really want to be Emperor of the Galaxy?”

 

We were lolling on his couch after eating supper. Another working day had passed in a headachey fog, counting down the minutes until I could be with him again. I leant into him, my head on his shoulder, while Earth music – Mahler, I think – played stirringly in the background.

 

“Look, Marillia,” he said, his shoulders tensing. “Can you forget I said that? Take it as hyperbole, or a joke, or something.”

 

“But it wasn’t, was it?”

 

He sighed and turned the music down.

 

“It’s what I’ve been prepared for, all my life,” he said. “It’s what has always been expected of me.”

 

“Expected by whom? Your father?”

 

“My father and all his associates.”

 

“But Snoke doesn’t know?”

 

“Obviously not.”

 

I thought about this. “So, you’ve always thought it would happen? Ever since you were a child?”

 

“One of my earliest memories is of a birthday party – I might have been five, perhaps even four – and having a paper crown on my head and being told I would be able to wear one again when I was the Emperor. But I shouldn’t be telling you this. It’s too soon…”

 

“Do you think I’d rat on you? I’d never do that.” Or wouldn’t I? This was leverage of a kind the rebels could only dream of. It had the potential to blow the First Order wide apart, in a military versus Force-sensitives civil war. Which was perhaps what Hux was building up to anyway. I could use this information for good – but if I did, I would be using it against him. Lord, the dilemmas just came thick and fast lately.

 

“I hope not, love,” he said. “I hope I have more to offer you than Leader Snoke ever could.”

 

“Yes, you do,” I said. “Although I can’t say I’ve ever dreamed of being an Empress.”

 

“Really?” Hux seemed astonished, knitting his brow at me. “It’s almost a given that one joins the First Order in search of power.”

 

“No, not me. I’m not particularly interested in power.”

 

I could almost see his circuits blowing.

 

“You’re not interested in…? But you’re attracted to it.” He gave me a knowing glint. “Surely.”

 

“I’m attracted to _you_ ,” I corrected him. “But I’m not sure power has that much to do with it. It was more about the uniform, to be honest.”

 

“Oh really?” His voice lowered seductively. “Perhaps I should wear it in the bedroom tonight.”

 

“I wouldn’t object if you did. But what do Emperors wear? Robes and stuff? I might not like it so much.”

 

His glint turned to ice. “Don’t be trivial,” he said. “I don’t want to rule the galaxy for the sake of trinkets, or luxuries, or even power. I want to do it because I know I can, and I know I would do a much better job than the Republic. Planning how I would run things has been my life’s work. I think you would be a great asset to the empire too. You might not want power, but don’t you want to put your stamp on our civilisation, and see that it develops in the way you think it should?”

 

While I considered this, one of those old Earth religious fables came to mind. The central figure of one of the faiths was taken to a high summit by his antagonist and shown all the worldly riches that could be his, if only he’d turn his back on the path of goodness. This was what Hux showed me, except I was left cold by the worldly riches. What I wanted was _him_ , but without all the mad nonsense his father had instilled in him. And yet, would he even be the same person at all then? Would he be the man I ill-advisedly loved?

 

“There’s a lot wrong with the way the galaxy is administered,” I admitted, and actually I believed this to be true. The Republic was poorly managed, a mish-mash of different civilisations who found it easier to engage in internecine squabbling than to come together as one for the benefit of all. That said, it was still better than the First Order. “A bit of cohesion would work wonders.”

 

“Yes,” said Hux, “and that’s what I can offer. Every planet, every system, working towards the common goals of the Order. I would never lose sight of them. The advantages to the economy, the infrastructure, the whole ethos of the galaxy, would be incalculable. And in time, who’s to say we couldn’t expand beyond our bounds, deeper into the known and unknown universe.”

 

“You want to rule the _universe_?” I said, blinking at the scope of his deluded ambition.

 

“Oh, I daresay I’ll be dead by then,” he said. “But my children…my grandchildren…”

 

My blood ran cold. This was the reason why I had to step back from him. The childhood he’d had – if it could even be called a childhood – was a million light years away from what I wanted for my own progeny. There was no way it could ever work between us. He believed in his intergalactic dictatorship, and I didn’t.

 

“You want to found a dynasty?” I said.

 

He had the grace to look sheepish at that. “You’re overwhelmed,” he said. “This is why it was too soon to discuss it. Let’s close the subject here. We have plenty of time to think about the future. Shall we turn our attention to the present?”

 

For the first time since we met, I didn’t want him to kiss me, but as soon as he did, the treacherous wave of pheromones overcame me and I gave myself up to it.

 

“We only have one more night after this,” he murmured, “before I have to leave you for at least a week. We ought to make the most of our time. Tell me what you’d like.”

 

_I’d like to fall through space with you until we land somewhere far, far away from this place._

 

“Oh, I don’t know,” I said. “Being with you is enough.”

 

“Really? No preferences? In that case, you can get on your knees.”

 

I did as he wanted, thinking all the time about how I was going to save myself. How I could go about saving him. I could barely admit to my stupid self that it might not be possible – that he might, by now, be a lost cause. I shut my eyes and let him pull my hair as he worked himself deeper into my mouth, but I was only minimally conscious of what was actually happening. I swallowed his seed perfunctorily, almost oblivious to it until the bitter salty tang hit the back of my throat. This was only happening on the surface, while deep inside myself I was calculating probabilities, dismissing impossibilities, developing plans.

 

I had to put all that on hold, though, when he pulled me back up to kiss the taste of himself out of my mouth.

 

“What am I going to do without you?” he said, pushing me down so I lay supine on the couch, while he hovered above me on one elbow. “You’ve made everything different. I’ve been so accustomed to being alone, and now I’m not sure I could go back to that.”

 

“You weren’t always alone, though, were you?” I said, thinking of Tessia. “I mean, you’ve had lovers before.”

 

“I don’t think of them as lovers,” he said after an awkward pause. “I’ve spent time with other women, yes. But it was nothing like this. Nothing as…encompassing. As profound. I hope you feel the same.”

 

“I do,” I assured him. “I’m completely…lost.”

 

“Lost?” he said. “That’s an interesting way of putting it. Surely it’s more about finding than losing?”

 

“Something of both,” I said. “I didn’t think this would ever happen to me. It wasn’t what I planned. I suppose that’s what I’m trying to say.”

 

“You thought you’d always be alone? I can’t imagine why. Any man would be lucky to have you.”

 

“You’re very sweet,” I said, but the words were riddled with cognitive dissonance. How could I be describing this man as _sweet_ , when he approved the abduction of babies to be trained up as mindless killing machines?

 

“Just truthful,” he whispered, ducking down to seal my lips with more kisses. I lay there, letting everything happen, letting him ruck up my skirt and explore me with his hands until I trembled underneath him and sighed into his throat. Despite his recent ejaculation, he was soon hard again, and he sheathed himself eagerly, pulling up my top to get at my breasts.

 

“I can’t get enough of you,” he muttered, his forceful thrusts gluing my bare skin to the leather upholstery. “It’s extraordinary.”

 

“Oh Lord,” was my only response. I clung to him, tighter than ever when we rolled unexpectedly off the side of the sofa and landed on the floor which, luckily enough, was some kind of rubberised tile with cushioning, sparing us any pain. He pulled me quickly on top of him, not missing a single stroke, taking two big handfuls of my arse and guiding me into his preferred rhythm.

 

I ground myself down on him, my hands on his shoulders, bending to let my breasts dangle over his avid face. Growling, he flipped me over, crushing his lips and teeth into the side of my neck, nailing me to that floor until I came with a rush that made my ears ring.

 

It took him a little longer this time, but as soon as I could gather my senses, I latched my mouth to his neck and shoulders, kissing and sucking until he couldn’t hold it in for another moment. Strange, semi-delirious thoughts coursed through my head as I worked on him – did we become more like one another, the more we joined together? Was he now a part of me, or I of him? Would any other man ever be enough for me now that I had had a man who believed himself destined to rule the galaxy? Yet for all his power, ambition and controlling tendencies, there was something else in him – something that I saw when he shivered in my arms, or said something sweet to me in a soft, almost coy, undertone. There was, fathoms deep, a pearl of vulnerability or self-doubt that made him a richer, fuller person than the tinpot demagogue he liked to think he was.

 

“What were you like as a boy?” I asked him, once we had staggered to bed.

 

“Skinny. Ginger,” he replied, deadpan. “Much as I am now.”

 

I giggled. These moments when he showed he had normal human attributes were the most precious of all to me.

 

“No, I mean, what were you _like_? Studious? Sporty? Popular?”

 

“One out of three,” he said shortly.

 

“Oh. Which one?”

 

“The first one. Although, I was on all the sports teams – captain of some – without being necessarily the most talented player. I didn’t really enjoy sports. I did them because I thought I should.”

 

“Why did you think that?”

 

“Because it was important to learn team dynamics. Because life, when it comes right down to it, Marillia is survival of the fittest, so naturally I wanted to be the fittest.”

 

“Naturally,” I echoed, but it sounded more like the influence of Brendol Hux than the innate impulse of a child.

 

“As the captain of a sports team, I could rehearse for a time when I would be in charge of something more substantial,” he said.

 

“Like the galaxy?” I suggested. “Because you grew up knowing that that was what you were aiming for.”

 

“My father made it very clear,” he said. “I’ve been fortunate, in having parents who supported and believed in me.”

 

Or they were fortunate, in having such a malleable little blank slate of a son, I thought.

 

“Did you ever think it was too much responsibility, too young?” I asked. “Did you ever wish you could just take some time out to think about whether it was the right path for you?”

 

He frowned at me. “You seem to imply that it isn’t.”

 

“No, not at all. I just wonder if your vision of the future is…really yours. That’s all.”

 

“You had no parents,” he said, after a stumped silence. “I suppose I can’t expect you to understand.”

 

“I guess not,” I agreed. “And, in a way, we did the same thing – we played to our strengths. What else can one do?”

 

“Right,” he said, somewhat mollified.

 

It was probably time to steer the conversation away from this dangerous ground. If I kept sowing these seeds of doubt, he might start to suspect me. Yet I really wanted to sow more – I wanted to make him think differently, see things in a new light.

 

“So how did your parents go about making you Emperor material then?” I asked, not sure if I wanted to hear the details.

 

“In a thousand different ways,” he said. “They didn’t raise me so much as train me. They knew I would need to be strong and virtually invulnerable if I were to succeed, so they made sure never to indulge any of the little foibles of childhood. Tears weren’t acceptable, for instance, or any of the usual outrage against injustice.”

 

“So if you complained that something wasn’t fair…?”

 

He grimaced. “Let’s just say I learned not to.”

 

“But were they…kind? I mean, they must have shown affection, because you’re able to show it yourself.”

 

“They weren’t monsters, Marillia. Of course they loved me. I’m their son. All I had to do to gain their approval was make them proud of me. I soon learned how it was done.”

 

“Conditional love.”

 

“All love is conditional,” he said fiercely. “You’re a fool if you think otherwise.”

 

I sat chewing my lip, wondering if I dared respond to this. Yes, I had to.

 

“I think if I had a child,” I said, “I would always love it, no matter what.”

 

Luckily, this seemed to calm him, rather than enrage him further.

 

“You’re tender-hearted,” he said, taking my hand and clasping it in his. “You haven’t been with us long enough. But you’ll toughen up in time.”

 

I ought to be grateful to him, for giving me all these excellent reasons to walk away without a qualm. And speaking of walking away…

 

“I’ve thought of something I might like to do, on our last night before your mission,” I said.

 

“Oh, really?” He brightened, pulling me down under the covers with him. “Tell me.”

 

“Can you fly a tie-fighter?”

 

His forehead crumpled. “Er…yes. It’s been a while, though.”

 

“Could we go for a trip in one? Just a short one, around the planet, or whatever. I’ve only ever been in shuttles, and I’ve always wanted to see the galaxy from a pilot’s eye view. Flying through the stars with you…I don’t know, just call it romantic whimsy if you like but…”

 

He laughed uncertainly. “I can’t say I’ve ever thought of it as romantic…but if it would make you happy…”

 

“Oh, it would. Just a quick trip, and then you can do whatever you want with me.”

 

“Ah, well, that’s a clear incentive,” he said. “ _Whatever_ I want?”

 

“I mean, within reason,” I said, slightly alarmed by his fervour. “No permanent after-effects or anything.”

 

“I’m sure I can manage that,” he said, sounding slightly offended. “But you must make me a promise.”

 

“What?”

 

“After the Finalizer mission, on my next leave – which is in three weeks, I believe – you will come with me to meet my parents. I want you to see that they aren’t the tyrants you seem to imagine.”

 

“Oh, well, yes. But I don’t have leave myself.”

 

“I can alter the rotas,” he said. “I think we should work the same shifts, in fact. I’ll have it seen to.”

 

“Ah, right,” I said, my heart hammering. I had to get away from this place before that. I had a strong presentiment that he would be using his home visit to announce something momentous, such as an engagement. I was going to have to watch his moves in the tie-fighter _very, very closely_.

 

“So you will?” he urged.

 

“Of course. If you can fix leave for me, then there’s no reason not to. I’m fascinated to meet them.”

 

“Good.” He seemed to release a breath of relief. This was obviously very important to him. “I can’t wait for them to meet you. They keep asking me when I’m going to get a girlfriend.”

 

I snorted inelegantly. This was the first clue I’d had that they were actual real people rather than First Order automata.

 

“I just hope I can live up to their hopes for you,” I said.

 

“Oh, you will,” he enthused. “They’ve always said I should go for someone with brains, and good breeding. When I tell them you have ancestry from Earth…”

 

Oh, fuck this. I wasn’t his choice at all. I was Brendol’s. Except that neither of them knew the Earth ancestry story was a complete lie.

 

“There’s no real proof about the Earth thing,” I cautioned him. “I had an aunt who was a keen amateur genealogist, and she thought there was a family story about a great-great-great uncle who fought at Trafalgar. But that’s all it is really – a story. Nothing to back it up.”

 

“These stories don’t come from nowhere,” he said. He was determined to believe it, apparently. “And your affinity with Earth culture must be genetic. Anyway, they’ll love you regardless of whether you can produce evidence. They’ll see that you were made for me.”

 

Made for him. It felt like a truth, striking at the heart of me. Despite everything, I loved him and couldn’t imagine ever feeling any different. There was nothing ahead for me but heartbreak and misery.

 

But for now, there were kisses, and the intense physical connection between us. Until it had to end, I would make the most of it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading; thanks even more, in advance, for all comments.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I'm having real difficulty uploading here at the moment - seems to be a different glitch every time - so I'm considering migrating to ff.net. Will have to see if this works without having to refresh three million times.

Forty five minutes before I was due to join Hux for our last-night-together-for-a-week extravaganza, I succeeded in hacking into the Sentient Resources system.

 

The first place I looked was, of course, my own file. It was sparse, containing only the fake information from my original application, and the details of my unusually rapid career progression. Under the ‘Notes’ tab, however, I found in red capitals: ‘RECORD TO BE UPDATED ONLY WITH APPROVAL OF GWH. NO EXTRAORDINARY LEAVE TO BE GRANTED.’ I took my shaking hands from the keypad in case of accidental incriminating keystrokes. ‘GWH’ was Hux. Clearly, he had considered the possibility that I would re-apply as soon as he left Starkiller. I felt violated, as if he had done a Kylo-Ren-style sweep of my secret thoughts.

 

Until I read this, I had indeed been planning to ask again, once Hux was safely on board the Finalizer, for that forty-eight hour pass. His deputy for the week was a Colonel Dobar, a shouty, square-bashing sort of man who didn’t seem the type to bother about trivia like leave applications. I’d thought I could get it past him, particularly as he – like everyone else – knew the nature of my relationship with Hux and would probably be reluctant to deny me anything.

 

But now I could see that that was out of the question. If I deleted the addendum, there would be a record of it, and the clerical worker whose ID I had breached would get into trouble. I wasn’t prepared to risk it.

 

I dithered for a moment, then looked for Stormtrooper records, but only the highest-ranking of them had anything registered bar their ID code and a date of birth. As Phasma had indicated, none of them was older than 35. Wherever my parents were, it wasn’t here.

 

I wrestled, then, with the temptation to look at Hux’s file, despite my fear that there would be some kind of alarm built into it, alerting him to each perusal. But I knew that was mere paranoia, prompted by what I had seen on my own record. I listened to my warring internal voices for about half a minute: _Go on, he won’t know…You don’t know that…There might be some amazing revelation that will show you the way out of this mess…_ I shook the voices out of my head and entered his name.

 

The record was completely mundane. Some generally available personal details and a long list of pay rises and promotions, coming at roughly biennial intervals. Absolutely nothing I could use.

 

I hadn’t realised I was holding my breath until my wrist-comm buzzed and I swore loudly, jumping so that my chair rolled back on its castors.

 

“Meet me on the flight deck,” said the message. “Go to the stores for the necessary equipment. I will be waiting for you.”

 

I shut down the Sentient Resources system and turned off my screen. I needed to keep a clear head for this.

 

In the stores, it took half an hour to get me into the requisite black jumpsuit, helmet and extraneous apparatus. Once kitted out, I felt extremely hot and uncomfortable, and as if my neck might break with the weight it supported. Surely this wasn’t optimum gear for somebody who would need to exhibit excellent reflexive co-ordination? Still, who was I to question the First Order? I thanked the costumers and clanked off to the flight deck.

 

“I’ve never seen you look so beautiful,” said a similarly-clad but much taller person as I exited the elevator into an immense and cavernous hangar.

 

I laughed. “Oh, it’s you. Bit hard to tell in that helmet. Actually, I might be regretting my request – this outfit really takes some getting used to.”

 

“It’s not the most flattering,” said Hux, leading me across the floor to where the spacecraft were docked. Stormtroopers ran up and down on mobile stairs, performing maintenance tasks. The sound of drills and welding apparatus would have burst my eardrums if I’d taken the helmet off.

 

I followed Hux up one of the mobile stairs. At the top, a stormtrooper awaited us.

 

“All checked and prepared?” asked Hux.

 

The stormtrooper raised his arm in salute.

 

“Yes, sir,” he said.

 

“Very good. After you, Officer Rome.”

 

I crouched and squeezed in through the ungenerous entry hatch, turning to watch Hux perform the same manoeuvre with even more difficulty.

 

“Take a seat,” he said, indicating one of the two available. It was very low and bucket-shaped, so I pretty much fell into it with an ‘eek’ of surprise that made him chuckle.

 

“You’re in charge of firepower,” he told me, settling in at my side. “But you won’t have to use it. We aren’t heading into battle, thank goodness. Now.” He paused, running his hands over the steering apparatus and pressing a few console buttons, seemingly at random. “I did warn you that it’s been a while. I’m not a pilot, but I’ve done pilot training as part of my application for promotion to Captain, a few years ago. In theory, I know what I’m doing…” He broke off, bending over the console to look more closely.

 

“Perhaps this isn’t such a good idea,” I said nervously. I wasn’t a keen flier at the best of times.

 

“Have faith,” he said sharply, and as he said it, he pulled at a lever and the cockpit roared with noisy life.

 

“Oh Lord,” I whimpered, feeling like puking into the communication tube as the aircraft jolted into motion.

 

The way Hux cursed under his breath and battered the console didn’t inspire a lot of confidence. The tie-fighter shot out of its port so fast I nearly whacked the ejector button with the top of my helmet. I was still screaming as Hux jerked it hard left, then right, still swearing; then, suddenly and beautifully, it swooped into a half-arc and flew gracefully out of the planetary atmosphere and into the stars.

 

Hux laughed with delight.

 

“That’s it!” he proclaimed. “Sorry for the awkward start. I remember now.”

 

Never mind his memory; it was mine I was working on. The alarming take-off had made it difficult for me to go about my self-appointed task of memorising every button-push and switch-flick. I was still in arrears, trying to get every action into sequence, having labelled each element of the console in my head. _B3-Z-Q1-Ex3_. I waited until I knew I had it pat, and Hux was using only the steering mechanism, before speaking.

 

“I feel a bit sick,” I said.

 

“Seriously? Are you going to be all right? Do you want to land?”

 

“No, no. I think it’s the atmospheric pressure. My ears. Never was a good flier.”

 

“This was a curious request, then.”

 

“Sometimes fantasy and reality aren’t quite the same thing,” I said. “But this is lovely now. The outlines of the glaciers, and the mountain ranges. And Starkiller, with all the lights on. Wow.”

 

“I can take it down lower if you’d like. Show you the detail.”

 

“All right.”

 

He edged a lever, slowly, towards him. I kept my eyes on what he was doing with his hands, taking in the glorious views only peripherally. I’m sure they were lovely though.

 

“You should have seen this place when we first arrived,” he said. “We landed just over there – do you see it? – on that plain. Plenty of people didn’t think Starkiller would work – plenty. And on that first day, looking into a blizzard, even I had a misgiving or two. But I didn’t let them affect me. We all persevered, and now the result is down there below you.”

 

“An amazing achievement,” I said, thinking _F2-F2-one inch at a time._

“It’s not finished yet,” he said. “The weapons systems are still in development. But when it is complete, you will be part of that achievement.”

 

“Oh, I’m just…”

 

“Don’t self-deprecate,” he said. “False modesty isn’t something the First Order values.”

 

“OK, then. I’m bloody brilliant.”

 

He laughed.

 

“You most certainly are,” he said. “There, that’s the circumnavigation complete. Do you want to land now, or shall we take another turn round?”

 

“Maybe just once more,” I said, wanting now to take a break from my memorisation feat and just whoosh through the stars with the man I might never see again after tonight.

 

He obliged, gathering speed and taking us up high for the final fling. It was like a crazy G-force coaster, pinning me back, roaring through the pinpricked dark. We were in the middle of nothingness, he and I, truly together. A wave of emotion I couldn’t quite identify crashed over me and I wanted to sob.

 

“Can’t we just go somewhere?” I said on impulse. “Away from here. Just you and me.”

 

He turned his head towards me, his hand tight on the accelerator lever.

 

“Such as where?”

 

“I don’t know…just…” My voice cracked and I had to shut up and swallow.

 

“The planet my parents live on now is beautiful,” he said. “You’ll like it there. We’ll stay for a few days – I’ll show you the volcanic spas. You can swim in them.”

 

It took me a while to get my voice under control. “That sounds good,” I said, but I didn’t mean it. I didn’t want to go to his parents’ home. I just wanted to go back to Kusa B, with him, and stay there. What if I got him there somehow? What if I tied him to a bed and had some professional deprogrammer come and drain all the poisons from his mind? What if, what if. It couldn’t happen.

 

I had to shake these thoughts from my mind quickly, because he was preparing to land the craft. I became once more a blank slate on which strings of characters were written and consigned to the correct compartment in my medium-term memory.

 

The landing was every bit as ad hoc as the take-off, and some of my mental character strings had to be reordered, as he had clearly pressed the wrong button, but we made it through the hatch and into the dock unscathed, or perhaps just a little scathed, judging by my headache.

 

“Thank you for that,” I said, once we were out of the deafening hangar, pulling off my helmet. My face was beaded with perspiration and I had to wipe my brow.

 

“Was it what you dreamed of?” he asked, removing his own headgear. A lock of hair fell endearingly over his eye; the first time outside the bedroom I’d seen it in less than immaculate condition. I wanted to reach up and brush it aside for him, but the heavy-duty gloves and restrictive overall prevented me.

 

“Yes and no,” I said. “It was memorable. I’ll always remember it.”

 

Again, I had to control the impulse to burst into tears. What if this really was the last night we would spend together? What if I never saw him again?

 

“So will I,” he said, ushering me into the elevator on the way to the stores. “I hope the rest of the evening will be just as special.”

 

“Oh? What are we doing?”

 

“Wait and see.”

 

Out of the stores, back in Senior Deck uniform, we met up again in the corridor. Hux made sure nobody was about to appear around a corner before hooking an arm around my waist and gathering me in for a hot-faced, scratchy snog.

 

“There’s something for you to wear in your quarters,” he said, breaking off when the unmistakable thud-thud of imminent Stormtroopers became apparent. “Go and shower and put it on, then come up to me.”

 

The ‘something to wear’ wasn’t as risque as the dinner party dress; in fact it was quite beautiful and made of a kind of liquidy silver stuff that flowed and swished along with my every move. It was lowish cut, but not obscenely so, and ended at about mid-thigh. It was a movie premiere dress, and I wasn’t really a movie premiere girl, but I did my best to live up to it, arranging my hair and putting on make-up.

 

Arriving at Hux’s quarters, I was on my guard, expecting him to spring out at me in a re-enactment of his dinner party surprise, but I remained unmolested on this occasion. I found him in the kitchen area, decanting wine.

 

“Here you are,” he said, putting down the bottle and coming over for an embrace of greeting. “I hope you’ve recovered from my erratic piloting…oh…you have a bump on your head. Forgive me.”

 

He kissed the aching spot by my hairline, then stood back to appraise me from head to toe.

 

“I knew that dress would suit you,” he said, his eyes fixed on my cleavage. “Perhaps it suits you too much. All I’m going to be able to think about now is getting you out of it.”

 

“No time like the present,” I said, fully approving of this proposition.

 

But he shook his head, a half-smile curving his lips upwards.

 

“Don’t tempt me. It’ll have to wait. I have other plans first.”

 

“Oh? What are they?”

 

“Come with me, and I’ll show you.” When he took my hand, I felt the tension in his body. He was almost vibrating with it. Apprehension overcame me as he tapped at the wall and made part of it slide open silently – a secret door.

 

“What’s this? Where are we going?”

 

He shushed me, leading me up a narrow spiral stair in almost complete darkness. As we climbed higher, a pale light – like moonlight – was cast over us, lightening all the time until we reached the top step.

 

“Wow,” I said. We were in a kind of turret room, but it was walled and ceilinged with glass. The only furniture, apart from two chairs and a table set for dinner, was a huge and very powerful-looking telescope. “I’ve never seen one that size.”

 

“That’s what they all say,” said Hux, smirking at me. “Sorry. Yes – this is my favourite toy. Come and look into it. It’s the most powerful model in the galaxy – the magnification far surpasses anything that’s been achieved before. You can almost see the expressions on the faces of the people far, far away.”

 

“Really?” I stood beside Hux as he trained it on one particular star, working carefully to zoom in and focus so that a recognisable scene appeared, both through the lens and on a viewscreen below.

 

“Kusa B!” I cried, darting forwards. “The Zahna Falls.” I looked back at Hux, whose satisfaction with my childish delight was evident.

 

“You’ve been there?”

 

“Yes, many times. Oh, can I try and find my home?”

 

“Be my guest.” He showed me the necessary tools, and I set to work. “I thought that, since you couldn’t go and visit your native planet, this might be an acceptable substitute.”

 

“It’s thoughtful of you,” I said, finding my region, then my sector, then finally the little nexus of treehouses and circular dwellings from whence I hailed. It felt like a blade twisting in my heart. I wanted to go back there more than ever. I couldn’t quite make out who the figures were that moved along the river paths and over the rope bridges, but I knew that they were people I had known all my  life. Did they wonder about me? Did any of my old playmates ever miss me? Was somebody living in our old house now? In my emotional excitement, I came within an ace of showing Hux where I grew up – but then, with a cold pang, I thought better of it. Best not to lead him to my front door, if I had to go into hiding. I pointed the lens into infinite space and stepped back with a sigh.

 

“I’ve made you feel homesick?” Hux surmised.

 

“A little,” I said. “It’s such a beautiful place – so alive and lush and, well…”

 

“Such a contrast to this place,” he translated wryly. “Let me show you where my parents live.” He trained the lens on a planet that was indeed quite spectacular, but in a cold and splendid kind of way, full of pointy sparkling mountains and rainbow-coloured lakes. It was gorgeous, but it didn’t look as if it would _smell_ of anything. The sterility of it was flattening.

 

“Amazing,” I said with feigned enthusiasm.

 

“Isn’t it?” said Hux eagerly. “They live actually inside this mountain here – you can only approach it by spacecraft. There’s a flight deck, accessible via a cave – you have to be very close up to see it. I don’t think even this telescope with do the trick…no. But it’s there. You’ll see.”

 

I stood gazing into the lens, with Hux just behind me, his hands on my shoulders. He leant forwards as I moved the lens sideways to inspect the surroundings, putting his lips to my ear.

 

“I have a gift for you,” he said.

 

I tore my eyes from the lens to look at him.

 

“Have you?”

 

“Yes. Stand still, don’t look – look into the telescope a moment.”

 

He released my shoulders and fumbled in an inside pocket. The next thing I felt was something flat and cold against my collarbone, and Hux’s fingers brushing the back of my neck as he fastened a clasp. As he did so, he pulled it taut so that it fitted snugly just around the base of my neck, too high for me to see it.

 

“There,” he said, spinning me around to examine his handiwork.

 

“What is it? I can’t see.” I put my hand to my throat, feeling a slender but strong chain of some kind, probably precious metal.

 

Hux lifted his wrist comm to capture an image, which he showed me. Yes, a necklace, or choker, maybe, made of a very pure, very expensive-looking metal.

 

I looked up at him questioningly, my fingers still playing with the chain, looking for links, but it was too skilfully wrought for them to be obvious.

 

“My father gave it to my mother,” he said softly. “And my grandfather to my grandmother before him, and so on, down the line of ancestors.”

 

“A family heirloom?” I said, my gorge rising in panic. “Wil, it’s too much…”

 

“No, it isn’t,” he said urgently. “The men in my family always know when they’ve met the right woman. It’s a kind of tradition of ours. And then they always give them this.”

 

“It’s been days…”

 

“The clasp is locked,” he said. “Only I can undo it. And our tradition is that that only happens on our wedding day.”

 

“You mean…?”

 

“I mean, Marillia Rome, that I’m asking you to marry me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes!


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was great to read your reactions to the last chapter - having people to take this roller-coaster ride multiplies the excitement. For those who really want a happy ending but can't see it - I don't think this story can end well BUT I have ideas for a sequel. Given that the next film is far, far away, I'm going to need some interim occupation.

For a moment, everything went black. I had to put out a hand, making contact with Hux’s chest, to steady myself.

 

He grabbed the hand, holding me upright, clasping his fingers so tightly with mine that our knuckles whitened.

 

I didn’t even dare look at his face. I knew I wouldn’t be able to say any words that would write pain on it.

 

“So soon,” I muttered, my free hand clamped over the choker, my fingers curling round it, looking for a way to get it off.

 

“Yes, it’s soon,” he said, and there was a tremor around the edge of his voice that nearly killed me. This was so important to him; rejection was clearly going to devastate him. “But it’s not _too_ soon. I already know that I want to be with you for the rest of my life, and I think you do too.”

 

“I…haven’t thought about it…”

 

“Yes, you have,” he contradicted forcefully. “You know it in your heart. Look at me, Marillia. Look at me properly.”

 

I lifted miserable eyes to his, which gleamed with an uncanny intensity.

 

“Now tell me that you don’t love me.”

 

“I can’t…I do love you…”

 

“Because I am the right man for you,” he said. “And you are the right woman for me. What more should there be to it than that?”

 

I had no words. Something akin to shock had taken over me and my capacity to think or speak had seized up. This was a disaster, and yet it was also something I wanted so much. For a stupid split second, my whole being had lit up with joy at the thought, and it wasn’t coping well with having that bubble burst.

 

“Listen to me,” he said, more sure of himself now, perhaps feeling that he was close to driving his point home. “Until I met you, there was nothing else in my life but the First Order. Nothing else was important, nothing else…I didn’t _feel_ anything for anyone else. I didn’t even think I could…but now you…you’ve changed me. I can’t let you go. Even if you say no, I can’t…”

 

His voice caught in his throat, and that was it, I was doomed. Every fibre of my being wanted to make him happy. I couldn’t say no to him.

 

“I’m not saying no,” I said, longing to take him into my arms. He was tensed, as if expecting some kind of attack, ready to absorb the blow. I couldn’t bear it. “I’m not…”

 

“You’re saying yes? Say it. Say yes.”

 

“I’m…” I nodded, my voice too thick to come out.

 

It was consent enough for Hux. He made various strange expostulations of rapture before taking hold of my head and diving in for a long and slightly tearful (my tears, not his) kiss. We were still kissing when the droid came in with food, wine and a long-stemmed hothouse rose in a flute vase.

 

“May I assume that congratulations are in order, sir?” he said, laying the tray on the table.

 

“Normally I wouldn’t approve of your speaking out of turn,” said Hux, “but yes. You may. Thank you.”

 

He turned back to me. His face positively shone all over. Even his hair looked redder.

 

“I don’t want to wait too long for the wedding,” he said. “Come on, sit down. We can discuss it over dinner.”

 

The last thing I wanted to do was eat. The bottle of vintage Ondraini fizz, on the other hand, looked like a plan.

 

“I want to explain why I asked you so soon,” he said, digging into his game casserole with a will. “Originally, I meant to wait three months and see if I still felt the same, although I knew I would.”

 

“So what was the rush?” I asked, necking down a mouthful of fizz too quickly, so that the bubbles went up my nose. Hux, ever the gent, poured me a glass from the water jug and waited for me to stop coughing before he went on.

 

“I had word from my parents earlier today,” he said. “My father is ill. It’s uncertain how long he might live.”

 

“Oh! Lord. I’m sorry to hear that,” I said, sobering in a second.

 

He made a gesture with his hands, indicating that I shouldn’t worry about it. “He’s old,” he said. “I’ve been expecting it for some time. But I’d like him to be at my wedding.”

 

“Of course,” I said. “I see. Oh, Wil. You could have mentioned it to me. You don’t have to keep this kind of thing to yourself.”

 

“I promise, in future I’ll tell you everything. I just needed to be sure of you first.”

 

“Right.” I reached across the table and took his hand. He squeezed it back gratefully.

 

“So I thought perhaps we could tie the knot at our next leave?” he said hopefully. “When we go to visit.”

 

“In three weeks?” I said, swallowing. There was no fizz in the gulp this time, just pure anxiety.

 

“Why not? Is there any particular reason why we should wait?”

 

“Erm…no. I can’t think of anything.”

 

_Three weeks to get out of this. Three weeks before I’m legally and irrevocably bound to this man forever._ I dimly remembered a lecture on First Order personal and family law at the military school: they didn’t do divorce. I recalled thinking, _Ugh, imagine getting hitched to a First Order dude, what a ball and chain that would be. No thanks._

And now, here I was, planning weddings with _the_ First Order dude.

 

Was there any way this could work? When he’d said those words about my having changed him, about the First Order no longer being the only thing of value in his life, an insanely optimistic part of me had seized on it as proof that there was hope for him. If I worked on him hard enough, could I tear him away from all this? After all, one of the best ways to destabilise an organisation was from within. If I could ‘turn’ Hux…oh boy. No, it was far too dangerous. For both of us.

 

He talked on, about guests and lakeside venues and suchlike, but I barely took in a tenth of it, watching him make gesture after gesture with his long white fingers while my numb senses struggled to revive.

 

“What do you think?” he said, running out of steam at last, returning to his rapidly congealing food.

 

“Uh, about…?” I floundered.

 

“Base to Rome,” he said, clicking his fingers. “You’ve gone out of range. What’s the matter?”

 

“I just…don’t really know what to suggest. I’ve never been to a wedding, let alone arranged one. I’ve no idea…”

 

“But you must have some idea about music. You’re always saying how important it is to you. And it should definitely be Earth music, yes?”

 

“Oh, yes,” I said vaguely. “Mendelssohn? I like Mendelssohn.”

 

“Good. Anything more specific?”

 

I shrugged, thinking that some kind of death march was probably more suitable.

 

“I guess Leader Snoke’s off the guest list then?” I said. “If we’re having music.”

 

Hux’s lips tightened. “He wouldn’t come,” he said. “We don’t have time to organise anything lavish anyway. Just an intimate ceremony, close family only.”

 

“Your close family,” I said. “I don’t have any.”

 

“No. And I doubt your old friends would want to come and see you join your lot with a General of the First Order either.”

 

“I guess not,” I said, thinking of my old friends, from Kusa B and the Institute, imagining their horror. Then I thought of how my parents would react: my mother locking me in my room and swearing blind that I wasn’t coming out until I came to my senses. My father, lower-key, but just asking in that quiet, droll way of his, “ _Do you really want to be Mrs Militaristic Fascist, Rills?_ ” Humour was always his best weapon; he would have made fun of Hux until he became unattractively ridiculous to me.

 

“Do you _want_ a big affair?” asked Hux, slightly exasperated. “Because if you do…”

 

“No, no,” I said, shaking my head. “No, I don’t. Small and quiet is fine with me.”

 

He squeezed my hand again. “You’ve made me so very happy, Marillia. I’d like to think I’d had at least some kind of similar effect on you.”

 

“You have.” I forced a smile. “I couldn’t be happier.”

 

Later, in bed, I found that my physical responses were all skewed and blunted. No matter what Hux did – and he couldn’t have been gentler and more skilled on this occasion – I couldn’t seem to muster any enthusiasm for the act. A vital part of me was elsewhere, on some other plane, and what remained had been left dead to the touch.

 

I made all the right noises, but I kept my eyes shut so he couldn’t watch me, couldn’t see how far away I really was.

 

Something must have given me away, though, because halfway through he disengaged and knelt up between my legs, waiting silently for me to open my eyes.

 

There was no escape. I unglued my lids and squinted up at him. His arms were folded across his chest, his face forbiddingly set.

 

“What’s…the matter?” I asked uncertainly.

 

“I was about to ask you that,” he said. “You’re not enjoying this, are you?”

 

“Of course I am…”

 

“Don’t.” He held up a hand. “Is this too vanilla for you? What do you want me to do?”

 

“Hit me,” I found myself saying. “I want you to hurt me.”

 

He sighed. “I didn’t think tonight was really the night for that kind of thing…but if it’s want you want…”

 

I sat up. “It is,” I said. “I don’t know why. I just need it.”

 

He looked at me, biting the inside of his cheek, saying nothing, giving my impulses time to spiral way beyond my control.

 

“Do it!” I urged.

 

“You don’t get to tell me what to do,” he said, pointing an admonitory finger.

 

Before I knew what I was doing, my palm had made sharp contact with his cheek. He cried out with shock, then everything happened at once.

 

With an animal snarl, he grabbed my elbow and had me face down over his lap in seconds, preventing my ineffectual struggles by pinioning my arm in the small of my back with one hand while the other reached on to the floor for something.

 

The feeling of being restrained, of being taken out of my distant thoughts and right into the heated, violent present, exhilarated me. When I saw that the item he was picking up from the floor was his belt, my perverse excitement grew even stronger.

 

“Let’s hope you haven’t bitten off more than you can chew, Marillia,” he said, with hard-won calm, dangling the cold leathery end of the belt over my helpless rear. I kicked my answer, squirming vigorously, as if I wanted to get away from him, when in fact all I wanted to do was make absolutely sure that I couldn’t. “If you think you can get away with slapping my face, you have another think coming. And it’d better be a good, long one.”

 

I wanted to feel that belt so badly I almost begged him to get on with it. But I knew that might just delay matters, as Hux always enjoyed spinning things out until I was faint with frustration.

 

Instead, I lay still, clutching at the bedspread, mentally preparing myself for the onslaught.

 

Luckily, his blood was too fired up to prolong the moment of anticipation. The belt, looped for double impact, fell with a stinging crack. I was ready to take it, ready to accept and absorb the worst he had to give me. It was no more than I deserved now. The burn felt like a purgation, spreading across my skin and drawing out my depths of shame and self-loathing. I began to understand those religious Earthen types who practised self-flagellation. But it was much better to have someone else to do it for you.

 

I didn’t struggle, didn’t even cry out – I pushed myself up and into each stroke, meeting them with gratitude. The deeper the heat, the better I felt, and Hux seemed to understand this, because he didn’t let up his blistering pace until I genuinely couldn’t take any more and uttered a low plea for mercy.

 

He threw aside the belt, tipped me off his lap and got on top of me from behind. He was inside me so suddenly and sharply that I gasped, but this was what I wanted now, and I could feel it again, my lust for him engulfing me from head to toe.

 

“That’s what you needed, was it?” he hissed, ramming himself into me with none of his earlier finesse. I could only grunt helplessly with each forward thrust, my mouth full of silk bedding. But the answer was yes. It was what I needed – to have the choice taken away from me, to have my hand forced. Only now, taking what I had earned, could I reconnect with him in the way I craved.

 

Hux’s frenetic pace left no time for doubt, or stress, or fear. There could only be the throb of my skin, the pounding of my heart and the exponential building of my climax. His breath heated my neck in ragged bursts, then he sank his teeth into it and sucked hard, just above the golden choker. Another mark, as if he hadn’t made enough on me.

 

It tipped me over the edge, and my orgasm came out as his name, in one long shuddering breath.

 

“Oh yes,” he moaned, the vocal tribute seeming to spur him on to his own height of pleasure. He lifted himself up a little, one hand clamped on my shoulder, as if making sure he had the perfect angle to ensure every drop of it reached as deep as possible, then collapsed on my back, finding my mouth to kiss it into submission. Not that my submission to him was in any doubt at this point.

 

When we surfaced, I seemed to be crying.

 

“Did I hurt you?” he said, alarmed, pulling me on to my side to cradle me closer.

 

I shook my head. “No…just…being silly.” I tried to get control of it, but my chest was heaving all over the shop. “Wish you weren’t…going…”

 

“So do I,” he sighed. “Believe me. But it’s only for a week. I’ll be back before you know it. Oh, Marillia.”

 

My chest refused to play ball and ugly, gasping sobs were haemorrhaging from me with no sign of stopping. He held my racked body until I was finally able to get control of it.

 

I needed the blackout relief of sleep more than anything, but it wouldn’t come. I lay instead and looked at his sleeping face until dawn.

 

Our parting in the morning was pain more acute than anything I’d ever suffered. I managed not to cry, but it was touch and go.

 

“Promise me you’ll come up here and use the gym every morning,” he said, adjusting his armband stripes as I sat on the sofa in the main room, almost hallucinating with exhaustion.

 

“I will,” I said. “I promise.”

 

“And you’ll catch up on your sleep? I was worried about you last night.” He stopped fiddling with his sleeve and frowned down at me.

 

“I’m going to sleep all day,” I said. “Once Finalizer has taken off.”

 

“Good. You do that. I organised a break day for you specially. And one for the day after my return.” He winked, then came to crouch down in front of me, taking my hands. “You need your beauty sleep if you’re going to look your best on our wedding day.”

 

I gazed bleakly into his eyes.

 

“You can use this time to think about things like what you want to wear…flower arrangements and so on,” he said, brushing my cheek gently with his knuckles. “There’s a place where they make women’s clothes somewhere – don’t ask me where. Phasma will know. Are you having dinner with her tonight?”

 

“I think so,” I said.

 

“Good. I’ve asked her to look after you while I’m away.”

 

“Have you?” My heart did a little flip. I rather badly needed not to have anyone’s eye on me this week. “There was no need.”

 

He leant into me and kissed me sweetly.

 

“Yes there was,” he said. “I don’t want to lie awake on Finalizer worrying that you’re feeling lonely and neglected. Have you tuned in your comm screen to the right frequency, by the way? I did tell you…”

 

“Yes, I did it last night.”

 

“Right. Be in your quarters by twenty three this evening. I’ll try and link up with you then. Don’t panic if I’m a little late; it’s not always easy to keep to a tight schedule in-flight, but I’ll do everything I can.”

 

He lifted me to my feet and wrapped me in a long, swoony goodbye embrace. I kept everything clenched and didn’t cry.

 

“Now,” he whispered, a little breathless. “I really must get ready for launch. Are you coming to watch?”

 

I nodded, and we left his quarters together. I backed out of the elevator at my floor and looked at him silently, waiting for the doors to close with a feeling of doom, as if the lift was taking him down to oblivion.

 

He stood there in full General regalia, winged cap, coat across his shoulders, boots high-glossed to perfection. I couldn’t breathe.

 

“I love you,” he said.

 

“I love you too,” I whispered back.

 

The doors closed.

 

 

 

 

 


	16. Chapter 16

The bitter chill of the parade ground kept me awake and upright, standing in ranks with the rest of the Senior Deck personnel while we awaited the big launch.

 

Behind the raised dais where the elite were ranged in a small phalanx, Kylo Ren at their centre, was a huge viewscreen, transmitting live images of the Finalizer, where last minute preparations were still in progress.

 

Down below us, on the parade ground proper, squadron after squadron of Stormtroopers stood in rigid rows, not talking, not even looking anywhere but straight ahead, as if they were waiting for someone to flick a giant activation switch.

 

“I wish he’d hurry up,” muttered Leva on my right hand side, apparently to the frigid atmosphere. “I’m perishing.”

 

Her protest was swallowed up by the icy air as each Stormtrooper, in perfect unison, raised a clanking arm in salute. General Hux walked out on to the central dais, a tiny dark figure from our vantage point, soon enormously magnified by the viewscreen behind him. He stood silent for a few seconds, his gaze taking in the entire parade ground, before fixing it in the middle distance. If he saw me, he made no indication of it. It was odd to look at his pixellated image. Somehow I couldn’t quite grasp that it was really him.

 

Not until he spoke.

 

“Thirty years ago,” he said, his voice ringing out confidently, echoing around the ground, “a great Empire collapsed at the hands of a renegade band, fuelled by the spurious mythology of the order known as the Jedi. But now the great Empire is rising again, while the so-called victory of the Jedi was hollow and temporary. They have disappeared from the galaxy, while we have worked ceaselessly to establish ourselves as the new order – the First Order. But if we are to succeed, we must be sure that the Jedi cancer has been truly excised. That is our mission today – to seek out any remaining traces of this poisonous doctrine and erase them, once and for all. You can be sure that, where any sign of the Jedi curse is found, we will crush it and impose our indomitable will upon the space that remains. The time is coming when every planet in the galaxy will thank us for it, and acknowledge the supremacy of the First Order.”

 

The Stormtroopers, along with most of the other spectators, displayed their enthusiasm with another salute. I stood motionless, numb with more than cold. Watching him on the viewscreen, I’d seen a reality I didn’t want to acknowledge; the depth of his fanaticism. The wild look in his eye, the venom in his voice, the bone-deep passion behind it all. He was sewn up tight in First Order ideology and nothing, least of all me, would ever be able to unpick the stitches.

 

He saluted the Stormtroopers in return, turned his back and stalked off the dais, followed by Kylo Ren and those other elite personnel who had signed up for the mission.

 

The viewscreen returned to the exterior shot of the Finalizer, now without its crews of technical staff making last-minute adjustments. We waited, in a freezing limbo, while a few squadrons peeled off and marched out of the parade ground, on their own way to the ship. About ten minutes later, we saw Hux lead the delegation up the ramp and inside, followed by the troops. On and on the footage went while our faces and fingers and toes grew bluer and bluer, until at last it was cleared for take-off.

 

I saw the link with Starkiller broken, the engines firing up, the slow, stately progress out of the hangar until it was powering through the atmosphere and into space.

 

It was done. He was gone.

 

Bundling back into the warmth of the base with the rest of the personnel, I found myself abreast with Captain Phasma.

 

“He’ll be back before you know it,” she said chummily.

 

“So will Kylo Ren,” I said, although it was hard to speak because the muscles in my jaw were all but frozen solid. I could have used her silver helmet out there.

 

“Humph, for all the good that’ll do me,” she said. “Still, you never know. Absence might make the heart grow fonder. Are you still on for dinner at my place tonight?”

 

“Sure,” I said. “But I need to get some sleep first.” Urgently. I already had black blobs floating in front of my eyes; there was a danger they might take over my entire field of vision very soon.

 

“I bet you do,” said Phasma, with her unexpectedly dirty laugh. “See you at nineteen thirty, then. You know where I am? Mezzanine, section five.”

 

“I’ll be there,” I promised, staggering into the elevator.

 

I didn’t wake up until my alarm buzzed at eighteen thirty. Coming to groggy and heavy-eyed consciousness, I cursed myself. I’d meant to sleep for six hours then spend some time contemplating my desperate situation and coming up with solutions. The solutions were going to have to wait a little while longer.

 

I grabbed a shower, then looked at myself in the mirror. My bottom was bruised in places, and I prodded the dark patches with my fingers, wanting to feel the twinge, the evidence of him still on my body. The thought of them fading and disappearing, along with the red mark on my neck, was distressing for some reason. But they would fade, they would disappear, and so would everything that had happened between us.

 

I swallowed back tears. I wasn’t ready to accept this.

 

Then again, no matter how quickly the marks went, the golden choker was forever. If he didn’t unlock it at our wedding, then I presumed I was stuck with it. I put my finger under it, tugging it sharply, but it was absolutely secure. I would need a locksmith of some kind.

 

If I wanted to conceal it – and the livid purpling stain above it – my only possible clothing option was my uniform. Not exactly the height of evening chic, but there was nothing else for it.

 

I dressed quickly and headed up to the Recreation Hub to get a bottle to take with me. While I waited at the bar for the droid to find the right vintage from the stores, I became aware of some kind of altercation going on in a dark corner of the room.

 

“Don’t tell me you don’t want it. Everyone knows what you’re like.”

 

A woman’s voice snapped back, “Nobody knows a thing about me – you’re just guessing. No! Get off me!”

 

I knew the voice, and I wheeled around, my heart thudding.

 

In the dark corner, a young officer I vaguely recognised had hold of Tessia by her elbow and was attempting to drag her to where two others stood, watching with expressions of mixed amusement and lascivious greed.

 

“Well, give me a hand, one of you,” chided the first man. “She fights like a Sinuri wildcat.”

 

“This isn’t what we agreed,” panted Tessia, trying to wrench her arm free. “You signed for exclusive rights. Your friends don’t get to…”

 

“Shut up, whore.” He fetched her a ringing slap across the cheek, and I was propelled out of my horrified trance and towards the melee.

 

“Get off her,” I cried, stopping by the two onlookers.

 

All three men glared at me with open contempt.

 

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” said one of the bystanders. “The sex police?”

 

“Officer Marillia Rome,” I said, and that shut them up like traps.

 

“Hux’s…” muttered one, but he didn’t need to complete the thought. Everybody else was having the same one.

 

The first man dropped Tessia’s arm.

 

“OK,” he said, his voice calm but his eyes spitting pure poison in my direction. “Let’s forget this. Come on.”

 

His friends followed him out of the bar area, all three of them fidgeting with their single sleeve bands as they worked to keep their chins high. None of them looked a day older than me.

 

I watched them leave, then turned back to Tessia, who was fixing her make-up in a pocket mirror.

 

“You didn’t need to do that,” she said, her voice husky and cracked.

 

“Yes, I did. Here.” I handed her her half-drunk cocktail. “You could probably do with it.”

 

“He’s just a kid really,” she said, looking at me with a silent plea I didn’t quite understand. “He doesn’t understand…”

 

“He’s an animal,” I said. “He’ll hurt you. I mean, really hurt you, not in the good way.”

 

“Yeah, well, it’s what I signed up for,” she said. “Nothing I can do about that now.”

 

“Really? Can’t you re-negotiate?”

 

She half-smiled. “You really don’t get it, do you, sweetie? I’m nothing. Nobody. My only value is my market value. And if I renege on a deal, that’s zero. Iralos, here I come.”

 

She dabbed at the corner of her eye with a make-up sponge, and I noticed the nicked skin she was trying to conceal, plus the shadow of an ageing bruise underneath her eye socket.

 

“Tessia,” I said awkwardly, flummoxed by her apparent indifference to her own fate. “I want to help you. How can I help you?”

 

“You can’t,” she said flatly. “I only hope he’ll want me again after this. Otherwise, I’m another rung down in the pecking order.”

 

“What’s his name?”

 

“Ludon. He’s only been out of the academy a year. I wonder what they teach them there these days.”

 

“What if I said something to…”

 

“Don’t you dare,” she said energetically. “Don’t ever mention my name to him. Promise me, Marillia. Promise me that.”

 

I nodded, deeply dissatisfied with the situation, but seeing no solution.

 

“OK. I’m sorry, I really have to go,” I said, noting the droid standing motionless at the bar with my bottle. “But I meant what I said before. If I can help you in any way…”

 

“Yeah, yeah. I appreciate it, really I do.” She thawed a little, raising her empty glass to me. “Much as I hate to say it, he picked a good’un. Just don’t let him see that side of you too much. He’s not big on compassion, sweetie.”

 

I collected my bottle and headed to Phasma’s quarters, thinking over what I’d seen. I’d stepped in this time, but there was no guarantee the problem wouldn’t recur. I felt an obligation to Tessia, given that the loss of her happy long-term situation was my fault. Her safety was important to me.

 

I’d promised not to mention her to Hux, but it really seemed like such an easy and obvious solution. Tell him about it over tonight’s screen-conf, prevail on him to have a quiet word with Ludon. Job done. But a promise was a promise.

 

Arriving at Phasma’s door, I realised that Tessia’s problems had displaced my own for a whole twenty minutes. It was almost like a holiday. But now they loomed large again – what the hell am I going to do about this wedding? How am I going to get out of here?

 

Phasma answered the door with her trademark laserbeam smile.

 

“Wine? Lovely.” She swept me up and down with her bright blue eyes. “I thought you weren’t working today. Why the uniform?”

 

“Oh…couldn’t decide what to wear. It just seemed easier.”

 

She laughed, ushering me into her quarters.

 

“You need to pay a visit to the atelier,” she said. “Haven’t you been there yet?”

 

I shook my head.

 

“Where did you get that amazingly sexy dress you wore to the dinner party then? I’m sure I’ve seen that on a mannequin down there.”

 

“It was a gift,” I said.

 

“Oh, really? He chooses well. Not just dresses, either.” She winked at me. “A man of taste. If only I could say the same for Kylo. Right then, shall we open the wine?”

 

As the cork popped out of the bottleneck, so my lack of inspiration regarding Tessia’s plight was suddenly relieved. The glimmer of an idea filtered into my consciousness, in time with the glug of the wine into the glasses. But I’d need to get Phasma tipsy first. I’d moot it around the third glass, maybe.

 

“So,” I said, taking a seat. “You’re top Stormtrooper around here. You’re pretty much the highest ranking officer on the base now.”

 

She rolled her eyes. “For my sins,” she said. “Though I expect Colonel Dobar would argue the toss.”

 

I asked her about her career and about the training of Stormtroopers, wanting to avoid talking about Hux for as long as possible. I felt far too fragile for it.

 

The training of Stormtroopers turned out to be a pretty grim subject, though, and all I could think about was my parents going through the same rigours, their individuality crushed, broken with fear, devoid of hope.

 

In the end, I had to put a stop to the conversation by bringing up Hux myself.

 

“But Hux – Wil – would have gone through a different process? He never trained as a Stormtrooper, did he?”

 

“Oh, no. At the academy there are various streams of entry. He was in the elite stream, so he’d be an officer directly after graduation. He had the highest entrance exam score ever, rumour has it. He was top of his year all the way through.”

 

“I suppose Daddy would never have settled for anything less,” I said acidly.

 

She gave me a curious half-smile. “No,” she said. “Though he’d retired from teaching by then.”

 

“Were you friends at the academy?” I asked. “You and Wil?”

 

She took a contemplative sip. “No, not friends. He didn’t really have them. You never saw him on the social scene at all. Once in a blue moon he’d show up at a party and everybody would faint.”

 

“So what are these stories you had to tell about him then? If he was all work, work, work? Can’t be that many, surely.”

 

Phasma looked as if she wasn’t sure whether to elaborate or not.

 

“Well, there were more rumours than actual stories,” she admitted. “And I’m pretty sure most of the rumours were just made up in various locker rooms. I did have a friend who had a crush on him, but he never showed the slightest interest. In her or anyone, though there were a _lot_ of rumours that he was involved with one of the instructors.”

 

“Shagging a teacher?” I thought about Professor Taxis. Another thing we had in common, although I’d only made it past first base with him in my dreams.

 

“Malya Treffi, a lot of the boys were hot for her. You should ask him about that,” she said, with a wicked grin. “I’d love to know if it was true.”

 

“I will,” I said, grinning back.

 

“There’s one story that’s definitely true, though,” said Phasma. “When he was captain of the skellball team in the final year, he was pretty unpopular with the other guys, because he worked them so hard. So on the night of their big team dinner – which also happened to be the night before graduation – they spiked his drink and he ended up chained naked to the flagpole in the parade ground.”

 

“No way!”

 

“There are pictures to prove it,” she said, sipping delicately. “Although they’re all blocked by the Starkiller servers, obviously. As for the other guys in the team, their careers are pretty much in the toilet now.”

 

“I can’t see him forgiving that kind of thing.”

 

“No. He’s really not the forgiving type. I did feel sorry for him, though. At graduation, despite being the top student and winning all the prizes yadda yadda, all anyone was talking about was how the janitors had to come out with bolt cutters and unchain him from the pole at four a.m. He was distinctly green about the gills at the celebration dinner, I remember.”

 

“Poor Wil,” I said, wishing I’d been there to execute a dastardly counter-plan against the dimwitted and cruel team-mates.

 

I eyed Phasma, wondering if she was sufficiently well-oiled to broach my idea yet. She was flushed and her eyes were mildly glazed. She poured herself another drink and it sloshed into the glass, spattering the tablecloth. Yes. Now was the time.

 

“I was nearly late tonight,” I said. “There was an ugly scene in the bar.”

 

“Oh? That’s pretty standard.”

 

“A bunch of young officers ill-treating one of those…what do you call them…pleasure staff?”

 

“Again. Standard.” Phasma swilled down half the glass. She needed to take it a bit easy if she had parade in the morning, I thought. Then again, with her physique, she could probably put it away without too many problems.

 

“It was…I’ve kind of…made friends with this one. So I felt really bad for her, and intervened.”

 

Phasma put down her glass, looking staggered. “You’re friendly with a…?”

 

“Yeah, and the thing is, it’s Hux’s…it’s Tessia.”

 

“Oh my. He doesn’t know?”

 

“No. I don’t think he’d like it.” I looked at her levelly.

 

“No, neither do I. I’d tread carefully if I were you, Marillia. I didn’t think you even knew…”

 

“I want to help her,” I said. “If I could, I’d go to Sentient Resources and contract her myself. Then I’d know she was safe. But of course, Wil would find out about it, and…”

 

Phasma looked quite aghast. “He’d go ballistic,” she said. “I bet he didn’t tell you you were entitled to one of those, as an officer, did he?”

 

“No,” I said with a rueful laugh. “I’m sure he wouldn’t have wanted me to know. But, I mean…do _you_ have one? Since you’re entitled?”

 

Phasma shook her head. “Never seen one that was quite my type,” she said. “And anyway, Kylo’s ruined all that for me now.”

 

“So…” I paused, waiting for her to catch my drift.

 

“Oh, come on! You want _me_ to take her on?”

 

“You’re senior to that jerk Ludon, so you could! And then I’d know she was safe. And everyone would be happy.”

 

“Everyone? I’m failing to see what’s in this for me.”

 

“Double dates? With Kylo? I can arrange all kinds of stuff, once this wedding’s out of the way…”

 

Shit! Tragic slip of the tongue there. Phasma’s eyes lit up.

 

“Wedding!? What?”

 

“Oh Lord, look, I haven’t really got time…I have to be in my quarters at twenty-three for a screen-conf with Wil. But yes, wedding. So if you contract Tessia, it can be my wedding gift! What do you say?”

 

“I say…OK.” She followed me to the door, at which I was aiming myself with indecent haste.

 

“OK. Sentient Resources tomorrow then. And don’t tell anyone!”

 

I waved a quick goodbye and fled.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hear the churning sound of a plot thickening. Thanks for all reads, kudos and reviews in advance.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a terrible dream the other night - I went to see Star Wars 8, and Hux wasn't in it. The horror! Hope it's not premonitory.
> 
> Anyway - here's another chapter. Warnings for intergalactic phone sex and Renaissance political philosophy.

Twenty three hundred.

 

My screen was on, but blank. I perched on the edge of the couch, fidgeting with my collar. It was chafing the tender spot on my neck. Maybe I could take off my boots. I didn’t really need to be wearing anything, but the whole screen-conf set-up had me in a formal mindset. What if I sat here naked? I smirked nervously, imagining Hux’s reaction.

 

The shrill tone of an incoming comm wiped the smirk off my face. I tensed up, organising my breathing, preparing an appearance of calm. Three rings in, I clicked my acceptance and waited for the initial blur to clarify into something recognisable.

 

His face materialised, looking at me, but not looking at me. I must have appeared a second or two later, because his blank expression became animated then. He smiled and put his fingertips lightly to the screen.

 

“I wish I could touch you,” he said. “Can you see me? Can you hear me?”

 

“Yes,” I said, too quietly. I coughed and repeated my affirmative. I wanted to reach through the screen too. Seeing him, and yet being so far from him, was physically painful.

 

“How are you? Did you sleep? You look better than you did this morning, at any rate.”

 

“I slept for hours. How are you? How’s the mission?”

 

“Oh, you know.” He grimaced. “The first day is always very dull. Just travelling, really. Lots of practice exercises, drills, briefings. Nothing that would interest you. Or me, for that matter.”

 

“How long will it take you to get there?”

 

“We should be in orbit within another thirty-six hours, all being well. Do you really want to talk about this mission, or are you just being polite?”

 

“Just being polite, really,” I said with a sad little smile. “I like to know what you’re doing though.”

 

“Have you missed me?”

 

“Well, I’ve been asleep, mainly, so…”

 

“Did you dream about me?”

 

“Um, I don’t think I had any dreams, actually.”

 

“Well, you must dream about me tonight. That’s an order, by the way.” His smile made me fizz all over. I wanted him here, beside me, or preferably on me.

 

“I hope I do,” I said.

 

“Why are you in uniform?”

 

“Oh, I had dinner with Captain Phasma and I didn’t have anything else that would hide…” I tugged at my collar in illustration.

 

“The chain? Don’t you want people to see it? It’s not a big secret. You can tell who you like.” He sounded a tad annoyed at the idea that I would want to conceal our engagement.

 

“No, not that,” I said. “I mean…” I loosened the collar, breaking out the king of love bites.

 

“Ah,” he said, relaxing into a chuckle. “Well, that’s fair enough, I suppose. I forgot I’d done that. Must have got carried away.”

 

“Just a bit,” I said.

 

We locked eyes for a long moment, caught in a thread of lascivious reminiscence.

 

“Take it off,” he said, leaning forward, getting as close to the screen as he could.

 

“What, the…?”

 

“All of it. Quickly, now. I don’t know how long the link will hold out.”

 

I unbuttoned my jacket, cast it aside and pulled my sweater over my head, then the boots went, then socks, then I shimmied out of my trousers. Reduced to my plain, dark underwear, I hesitated, looking at the screen with half-closed eyelids, wondering if he’d wanted more of an elaborate striptease.

 

“I did say all of it,” he said tersely. His face was tight with expectation, voice strained. I wondered where his hands were.

 

I unclipped my bra with fingers too trembly to be nimble. It seemed to take ages. When it was off, I looked down at my knickers, but he stopped me.

 

“No, leave them a moment,” he said. “Cup your breasts…yes…squeeze them…stroke your nipples, get them really hard. Mmm. Keep going.”

 

I did as I was told, working my nipples into rigid bullet points, looking down at them in order to avoid having to look at the screen. I wondered if Hux had been like this with the teacher at the academy, or had she been the one giving the instructions? Somehow I couldn’t imagine it.

 

“Now keep one hand on them and put the other one inside your…yes. Look at me.”

 

I lifted reluctant eyes to the screen as my fingers slipped into my wetness. The calm, controlled way in which he gave these orders, as if he was going through a manual test exercise with the deck crew, made me quiver. I was pretty sure his hands were busy under the desk, though, given the twitching of his facial muscles and his increasing struggle to master his breathing. So not totally like a manual test exercise.

 

“Tell me…how it feels…” he whispered.

 

I hoped he didn’t want detail. I wasn’t sure I was up to it.

 

“Really wet,” I said. “And hot. Slippery.”

 

That seemed to suffice.

 

“Get them off now. I want to see.” He spoke urgently now, the words breaking up, interspersed with jagged breaths.

 

I got them down in a flash, eager to resume, but before I could, he made me stand up and turn around. I knew he was looking at the bruises on my bottom, and I put a hand on one cheek, pressing my fingertips into the most prominent of them.

 

“Still feeling that?” he asked thickly. “Mm?”

 

“Yeah,” I whispered.

 

“Good. Go on then, back to it. And don’t take your eyes off me.”

 

I sat back on the couch, thighs wide, giving him the full uncensored cut as I delved back between my lips. I kept my other hand on my breasts and I kept my eyes on him, using the starving look on his face to spur me on.

 

“This is weird,” I whispered. “This is weird, you’re not here.”

 

“I’ll be there,” he said. “When I get back…I want you on my bed…waiting for me…naked and spreadeagled...I swear I will _ruin_ you…ohhhhh.”

 

He screwed his eyes shut and slammed a palm down on the desk. I watched six or seven different expressions of extremity cross his face. I wanted to jump through the screen and kiss his stupid, beautiful mouth, holding him until he stilled.

 

I stopped working on myself and sat up, alarmed, as the screen began to flicker and pixellate.

 

“Marillia,” he croaked, looking up with heavy eyes. “Oh _shit_ , no…” He banged a button on his console over and over but it was no use. The screen went black.

 

I spent ten minutes trying to reconnect, but it was no use. The link was broken. I curled up into a foetal ball in the corner of the couch and let out a long wail of despairing frustration. I didn’t want to finish myself off. I didn’t want anything inside me but him, and I wanted him so much, too much, more than anyone should ever want.

 

Fuzzy-headed, I got dressed again and headed out of the apartment, having one aim in mind. Straight up in the elevator, straight into his quarters. I looked out for the droid, but he stood in a corner, deactivated. With luck, he wouldn’t have had time to change the bedsheets.

 

I almost ran into Hux’s bedroom, but the bed was perfectly made with clean, fresh sheets. This was no good. I ran back out, looking for a laundry hamper; a woman on a demented mission.

 

Yes, I found one, and yes, last night’s sheets and pillowcases were crumpled at the top of the pile. I grabbed them, ran back into the bedroom, threw them on the bed, then threw myself into the midst of them. I lay there, hugging them to me, breathing in his scent, our scent, the proof of what had been, until I was soothed.

 

My face buried in the silken blackness, I let my thoughts swirl, waiting for them to settle. What if I quietly stood down from my assignment and quit the Resistance? I would never subscribe to the First Order’s philosophy, but couldn’t I just ignore it and be with him? Couldn’t we just be together, somehow, anyhow? Couldn’t I persuade him to forget the Empire stuff and retire on to the Supreme Council at thirty-five, and live a comfortable life on some distant, untrackable planet? Was it impossible, was it possible, was it crazy, was I crazy…?

 

I drifted into uneasy sleep, and I dreamed, as he’d ordered, of him.

 

It was our wedding day. The wedding was taking place at the Astronometrics Faculty common room at the Institute, and the guests were mainly people I’d vaguely known there. They all held lightsabres in an arch, and I walked through them, escorted by a pair of Stormtroopers. Hux was at the end of the arch, but sometimes he looked more like Kylo Ren. By the time I reached him, he really was Kylo Ren, and when the Stormtroopers took off their helmets, they were mum and dad. We all group-hugged, but somewhere outside the circle, Hux’s voice said, “You know we’ll have to kill them first.” I threw myself to the floor, begging and pleading for their lives, and when I woke up there were real tears on my cheeks.

 

It was a horrible, but necessary, wake up call. I couldn’t marry Hux. I couldn’t live with an act of betrayal on that scale. The dream hung around my spirits, depressing them too far for me to contemplate going back to sleep. I turned on some spotlights and decided to rummage around Hux’s nightstand in search of reading material.

 

He had a shelf of books, but they were all technical manuals or scientific treatises – interesting stuff, but I wasn’t really in the mood for it. At the end of the row was an Earth book I’d heard of, but never read: _The Prince_ by Niccolo Machiavelli.

 

I picked it up and leafed through it; it was full of annotations and underlinings. Several of them leapt out at me: _“It ought to be remembered that there is nothing more difficult to take in hand, more perilous to conduct, or more uncertain of its success, than to take the lead in the introduction of a new order of things.”_

_“A prince should therefore have no other aim or thought, nor take up any other thing for his study but war and its organization and discipline, for that is the only art that is necessary to one who commands.”_

_“_ _From this arises the question whether it is better to be loved rather than feared, or feared rather than loved. It might perhaps be answered that we should wish to be both: but since love and fear can hardly exist together, if we must choose between them, it is far safer to be feared than loved.”_

_“Everyone sees what you appear to be, few know what you really are.”_

I put the book aside. I couldn’t say there were any surprises in it, but it was still chilling to see it in black and white, and silver highlighter. As for the last little nugget, that applied to me even more than to him, and it made me wonder again if we were really fundamentally alike. Everybody thought we were a good match. How was I supposed to feel about that?

 

As there was no chance now of getting back to sleep, I opened his bedside drawer and had a rummage around it instead. It seemed to be mostly full of spare batteries and cables, but underneath them all was a clear plastic wallet containing old photographs.

 

I eased them out carefully and spread them across the mattress. There were none of him as a child, which was mildly disappointing, but there was one family group, presumably taken on his graduation from the Academy, as he was about ten years younger and covered in gold and silverware across the chest. He glared into the lens as if he suspected it of something, and so did the elderly man standing at his shoulder. White-haired as he was, he was still pretty hale for a man of his age and the icy intelligence in his eyes was no less formidable than it must have been decades before. Slightly apart from them, at the young Hux’s side, was a woman in late middle-age. She looked as if she was trying to smile but couldn’t quite figure out the mechanics. Everything about her was grey – hair, suit, eyes, skin. The way they were grouped made her look like a bolt-on, with the male Huxes very much the focus of the picture, father and son in perfect accord. I wondered if this was the fate of all Hux women.

 

It wouldn’t be mine.

 

The other photographs were mainly large groups – his cohort at the Academy, the odious skellball team, some smaller cliques of uniformed First Order soldiers. I was about to replace them in the wallet when I noticed that one very small picture hadn’t been removed with the others. It was ID sized and dog-eared, as if it had withstood a lot of handling. It was a woman’s face – a very beautiful woman, in her mid-to-late thirties. She had black hair in a pixie-crop, enormous dark eyes, a full red-lipped sensual mouth. Was this the instructor Captain Phasma had spoken of? I turned the photograph over, shocked by the raw blade of jealousy twisting in my lower stomach. _You were old enough to be his mother, you predatory bitch._

 

I wondered what he’d felt for her. When he proposed to me, he’d said he didn’t think he could feel that way…It was stupid, but it reassured me. Whatever had happened between him and this woman hadn’t lasted.

 

But then, neither could we.

 

I stuffed the photos back in their drawer, noticing the time. Soon it would be time to get up, get showered, get dressed, go to work. I supposed I ought to add a stint in Hux’s gym to that list, but I couldn’t face it. My head was already pounding at the very idea.

 

I needed some of those pills he’d given me on the night of the dinner party. With this in mind, I got up and headed to the pharma cabinet in the bathroom. It was impressively huge – he appeared to be covered for any and every possible ailment in the known universe. It was organised alphabetically, so I found the pills under ‘analgesia’ and took them out. I was just about to shut the cabinet doors when I noticed a small, locked drawer in one corner of the cabinet.

 

Curious, I tried to open it via a miniature keypad on the side, expecting it to be password protected. It was. Ha. If there was one person this wouldn’t deter, it was me.

 

Within fifteen minutes, I’d hacked my way in. I opened the drawer and took out one of two small vials, about the length and twice the thickness of my index finger.

 

I didn’t recognise either of the names on the labels, but I was keen to check them. I took my haul back into the bedroom and logged myself into Hux’s info-hub.

 

_Metherylamide 3-011_ , I typed, and the description came back, loud and clear, from the First Order pharmacopeia.

 

_“A preparation which mimics the onset and progress of the contagious virus Mach Fever. Available only to top-level personnel, for use in extreme circumstances e.g. invasion, in order to avoid capture/interrogation. Symptoms persist for thirty six hours, following which a full recovery is made.”_

I rolled the little vial around in my palm, thinking hard. This was Hux’s ‘magic bullet’ – not quite a suicide pill, but something that would make his adversaries think that he was dying of some hideous, and highly contagious, disease. Mach Fever had never come to Kusa B, but we had all heard of it and terrified each other with tales of it in the school playground. A blotchy purple rash on the soles and palms was the first sign. The second sign was a high fever, which would typically rage for about twenty four hours. There was no third sign, because if you hadn’t been rushed to a specialist isolation ward by then, you were dead. There were about three of these wards in the galaxy – one was at the Institute Training Hospital on Zyron.

 

I could well imagine the panic it would cause among an invading force if their enemies appeared to be dying of it. They would need to place themselves in immediate quarantine. Any fighting would have to wait for another day.

 

“Clever stuff,” I said to the absent Hux, staring into my palm.

 

Had I found a workable solution to my problem? Was this my ticket out of Starkiller Base?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn! Now I've put in those excerpts from 'The Prince' I really want that to be the title of this fic. Is it allowed to change a fic title halfway through, or is that too confusing? Will I lose readers who search by title? I've never liked the original title; it was just something I grabbed out of thin air because I was in such a post-TFA Huxdrunk rush to upload. Hmm. Pondering.


	18. Chapter 18

I wrestled with my new information all morning. Luckily Colonel Dobar showed no signs of wanting to interact with me, so I was left pretty much to my own devices, and was not called upon to be professional or coherent.

 

By first quarter break, I’d abandoned the idea. There were too many risks involved. If I went to the sanatorium with signs of Mach Fever, the whole base would be put in quarantine lockdown, and Finalizer would be recalled with immediate effect. There wasn’t even any guarantee they’d shuttle me to the nearest specialist facility on Zyron – taking a First Order operative to a civilian hospital represented a security risk. They’d be breaking cover.

 

No, it was useless. But perhaps I could come up with other medical grounds to be kicked out of the First Order. A chronic condition of some kind? Something that would appear to affect my coding skills? A psychiatric disorder? Lord knew, that wouldn’t be too hard to fake, with the spaghetti-shredded state of my head.

 

Captain Phasma was as good as her word, meeting me at Sentient Resources during the break.

 

“I still don’t know why I agreed to this,” she muttered, signing her name on Tessia’s contract of transfer. “You owe me big time, lady.”

 

“I know,” I said. “I really appreciate it.”

 

“You’re inviting me to that wedding.”

 

“You plus one,” I said with a wink. “I’m sure Kylo would love to be best man.”

 

She laughed out loud. “Now _that_ I would pay to see.”

 

Tessia’s future safety secured, I returned to my console. Feeling in my pocket for the Mach Fever simulator, my fingers bumped up against another bottle, causing me to remember it. What was the second secret pharmaceutical?

 

Making sure nobody was lurking over my shoulder, I fed the name on the label into the search engine. When the definition came up, I had to shut it down immediately, stand up and pace around the deck, settling my shocked nerves.

 

That couldn’t be right, could it? These pharmaceuticals were easily confused – one letter or number different and you were looking at a whole different drug. I must have made a mistake. I’d check it again, make sure every single character was absolutely accurate.

 

I entered the name once more, triple-checking it for typos. When I was satisfied there were none, I hit the return key.

 

Oh, shitting, fucking hell. The definition was exactly the same.

 

_“Anti-prophylactic: one drop taken in any liquid will counteract the contraceptive Arcon-Z for twenty-four hours.”_

Arcon-Z was the injection everyone on the base, male or female, had to take at three-monthly intervals, to prevent any accidental small First Order personnel. I shook the bottle, took off the lid. The seal was broken and the bottle was half-empty.

 

All I could think of was Hux, on our last night together, decanting that bottle of wine into a jug. There was literally no need to do that, unless…

 

“Fucking hell,” I whispered to my monitor, my palms clamped to my face.

 

“Are you OK?” Leva, next to me, but not close enough to read my screen, sounded concerned.

 

“Oh.” I closed the tab. “I’ve fucked up this command chain. It’s OK. I can fix it.”

 

“Do you want me to look it over?”

 

“No, no, you’re OK. Actually, I really need to use the…”

 

I got up and fled to the washroom. Staring at myself in the mirror, I tried to work out if I looked pale. I certainly felt sick, but that was probably down to the shock. I ran my hands over my breasts – did they feel tender? Were there any other signs? And would I even have any, two days later?

 

There was no question of asking for a pregnancy test at the Pharmacopeia; they wouldn’t stock them anyway. And even if they did – this was not something I could broadcast.

 

“What the hell am I going to do?” I asked the mirror.

 

Plan A: calm the fuck down. It was one night. Chances were – even if Hux had doctored the wine – nothing would have happened. But then again, perhaps he’d done it before. Perhaps he’d been slipping me this stuff ever since we got together. And given how many times we’d done the deed over the course of the past week… I couldn’t think about it.

 

I wandered out of the washroom in a daze, and almost bumped smack-bang into Captain Phasma.

 

“Oh, Officer Rome, I’ve been looking for you,” she said, and I had the feeling her silver helmet was hiding an apologetic expression. “I just had to go and make a report to the Supreme Leader, and…” Definitely an apologetic expression.

 

My skin prickled. “What?” I asked, my nerves beginning to scream for mercy.

 

“I kind of…let slip…about you and Hux…”

 

“You told him about the wedding?”

 

“It just happened,” she said. “I was so excited about the invitation, I couldn’t…anyway…he wants to see you.”

 

My nerves reached full-on high-pitched horror-movie mode.

 

“He wants to see me? Why?”

 

“I think he was a bit put out that Hux didn’t tell him himself, before going on this mission. He just wants to ask you a few questions, that’s all. Kind of an enhanced vetting procedure, since you’re going to have highest-level security access, as Hux’s wife.”

 

“Enhanced…” I could barely breathe. “What does that entail?”

 

“He’ll just read your mind a bit, I expect. It all happened so fast, he probably wants to make sure you really love him and aren’t some awful social climber,” she said heartily. “Relax.” She clapped me on the back with a silver hand. “As long as you’ve got nothing to hide, it’ll be fine. Give me a buzz later, we can meet up in the Rec Hub.”

 

“Wait!” I ran after her as she turned on her heel. “When? When does he want to see me?”

 

“Oh, no rush. I can see you’re busy. After work should do it. Bye.”

 

She marched off, leaving me to lean against the wall for support.

 

This meant certain death. I had no other option now. I went back into the washroom, took out the vial of Mach Fever simulator, and tipped it down my throat.

 

I was too overwrought to go back to work. I excused myself, telling Leva I was feeling sick, and went back up to Hux’s quarters, carefully replacing both vials in the locked section of the cabinet, then I lay down on his bed and waited for the drug to take its course.

 

There were, of course, a million things wrong with this course of action. Panic would infect the base and, if they didn’t transfer me to Zyron, I’d only be in a worse predicament than I already was. Hux would know what I’d done. Questions would be asked. I’d be dead.

 

Even if this was a mere postponement of the inevitable, however, a tiny glimmer of freedom shone through the many cracks. I took out the photographs from Hux’s drawer and kissed his face.

 

“I really did love you,” I said. “Really do. I hope you’ll always know that.” I toyed with the idea of writing a note, making this explicit, but then it could count as incriminating future evidence, so I didn’t.

 

I lay down again, holding the graduation photograph against my heart, and wept like a baby.

 

It took about an hour for the first purple blotch to appear on my right palm. I stared at it through blurred eyes, watching its infinitely slow spread across my skin. When the second showed up on my other hand, I got off the bed and made my way to the Sanatorium.

 

I was bundled into an isolation unit for testing straight away. The medics who dealt with me wore breathing masks and made sure every inch of their skin was covered. I knew the fever was growing; my face burned and my skin felt as if a layer had been stripped away.

 

Outside the unit, I could hear fragments of urgent low-toned conversation. _“…page Colonel Dobar…and the Finalizer…can’t be too careful…all the signs…need to get clearance for that…isn’t she…General Hux…would want to be told…”_

 

It all merged into one endless whisper of GeneralHuxGeneralHuxGeneralHux.

 

The ceiling was white, but it wasn’t white. It was like clouds, then it was clouds, then there was blue sky around the clouds and steam enveloping me. The warm familiar mist of the Zahna Falls eddied lazily around my naked body, beading it with its comforting droplets.

 

I reached up, letting the falls crash down around me, soaking me from head to toe, breathing in the damp scent of the rocks and the heavy perfume of the julip flowers that grew in every crevice. When I opened my eyes, the aquamarine healing pools spread out before me at the foot of some rocky steps. They were alive with people swimming, socialising or just relaxing. I saw the same group of elderly men who gathered here to play on the floating chess board every day and my heart swelled with love for them. They had let me play with them sometimes, when I was a child, and been most astonished when I’d managed to beat a couple of them. Since then, they’d always greeted me and asked after me. How proud they’d been when I’d won the scholarship to Zyron.

 

Were they still proud of me now? Of course they were, because all that…trouble…was over and past, and the galaxy shone under a new light, a brighter sun. Its beams illuminated a man, striding towards me through the water, all golden and joyous with hair like fire.

 

I reached out to him, my returning hero, bathed in light. Indescribable happiness lifted me so I seemed to rise two inches from the ground, every cell in my body rushing me towards him. I laughed as he climbed the steps, seeing how the Kusan sun had covered him in freckles across his face and chest and shoulders, all the way down his arms, a living dot-to-dot puzzle.

 

“Look at you,” I said, with simple but ineffable joy. “Look at you now.”

 

He came under the falls with me and they crashed over us both as we cleaved together, kissing through the relentless stream. Some of the water got in our mouths, and the steam glued our skin together, but none of this mattered. Our bodies fitted together like jigsaw pieces, in perfect alignment, frictionless.

 

He lifted me into his arms and took me up the path that led to the village. People passing us on the wooden walkways and rope bridges congratulated us and wished us well.

 

The journey ended on the swing seat underneath my parents’ treehouse. He sat down beside me and we swung to and fro, gently and wordlessly, leaning up against one another. The sun was setting now and some children chased each other up from the lakes, wet-haired and laughing.

 

“Come inside,” I said, to the ones I knew were mine. Ours. Three of them, all with their father’s red hair and pale skin. “Grandma’s making holwheat pancakes for supper.”

 

They cheered and scampered up the ladder in single file, arguing about who would get the first one.

 

“I never thought this climate would agree with me,” he said, once they were inside. “But it does.”

 

“As long as you’re careful,” I said, “and make sure you don’t burn.”

 

It was more important than anything that he didn’t burn.

 

We went upstairs and ate supper around the table, with mum and dad and the kids. It was noisy and cheerful, companionable. Dad teased Wil and he took it in good part, which he never would have back when…when…but I couldn’t remember a time before. Mum took me aside for a whispered conversation about whether she and dad should move to the city to be closer to us.

 

“I love the times we have together so much,” she said. “I miss you when you’re not here. I want to see my grandchildren growing, day by day.”

 

“I want you to,” I said. “I want you and dad to be near us.”

 

“That’s settled, then,” she said. “We’ll sell this place and get an apartment near you.”

 

“No,” I said. “We’ll move out of the city and come here.”

 

“But your work? What about Wil?”

 

“Everything will be fine,” I said, and I believed it. Nothing bad could touch us any more.

 

Later, when the children were asleep, we sat on the balcony with a glass of wine, listening to the sounds of the forest bedding down for the night. We talked about the new Republic and how the different planet states were coming together, buoyed into accord by the end of the First Order.

 

“What if there’s a Second Order?” asked dad of Hux.

 

He shook his head. “That can never happen again,” he said. “Nobody wants it.”

 

“Thank the stars for you,” said dad. “It would still be going strong now if you hadn’t taken action. We owe you our galaxy.”

 

I reached for Hux’ hand and he took mine, lacing our fingers together. We sat like that, heads thrown back, eyes half-closed, while fireflies hummed around us, until mum and dad started yawning and talking about how late it was getting.

 

We said goodnight and watched them leave. I stood up, leaning over the balcony, looking out over the woodland groves, the campfires flickering, the evening gatherings breaking up or turning into something more bacchanalian. Hux stood behind me, clasping his arms around my waist, nuzzling my cheek with his three-day ginger beard. He was wearing the long white linen shirt and light cotton leggings all the Kusan men favoured in this warm season; his feet were bare. He smelled of coca oil and faded sunblock and the subtle ozone freshness of the Zahna Falls. It was the smell of happiness.

 

“Shall we stay here always?” he said and I caught his lips for a kiss.

 

“How do you know?” I asked, in wonder. “How do you always know exactly what I want?”

 

“Because I know you,” he said. “Inside and out. I always know what you want.” Prickly beard hairs rubbed against my skin, sparking my libido like tinder.

 

“Oh, really? So what do I want now?”

 

“That’s easy. The same thing you always want. My body.” He whispered it into my ear and my senses responded predictably – knees weakening, little shooting stars of desire glittering all over my neural network.

 

I couldn’t deny it. He took me by the shoulders and propelled me away from the balcony, towards my childhood bedroom, still plastered all over with posters about scientific and technical discoveries, and the planetary weather systems.

 

But looking at them was the last thing on my mind.

 

We fell together on to my bed, causing it to creak in the place it always had.

 

“We’ll have to get our own place if we stay here,” I whispered. “I’m not sure the walls are thick enough…”

 

“You can keep quiet, can’t you?” said Hux, with a positively evil smile. He well knew how hard it was for me.

 

I pulled him down on top of me, muffling any exclamations with kisses. We rolled around silently, snogging and sliding our hands wherever they wanted to go, until Hux sat up and pulled off his shirt.

 

“All right,” he said softly. “Absolutely still and silent, then.”

 

“I can’t…”

 

“You have to.” He lifted my skirt to the waist and pulled off my underwear.

 

“Oh, please, no…” I whispered, knowing what he had planned.

 

He shushed, grinning briefly up at me before diving down between my legs and applying his tongue to my exposed and parted lips. The pleasurable torment continued while I thrashed around, ignoring the injunction to stay still, and tried very hard to dampen my ardour by thinking of my parents in the next room, but the moment was coming, and coming soon…

 

It was just about there when he knelt up again, pointing an admonitory finger.

 

“I told you to keep still,” he said. “You didn’t.”

 

“Oh, please…” I whimpered, grabbing the air around him with blind need.

 

“Try again,” he advised, and this time he held my thighs firmly while he went to work. I lay there, quivering and trying not to squeak, thrown out of my right mind by the vibrations of pleasure coursing through me.

 

He knew when I was past the point of no return, and he shinned up my body, lying on top me with one hand over my mouth and the other where his tongue had been, while I sighed it out.

 

Then his leggings were down and he was inside me, heedless of the creaking that matched the rhythm of his thrusts. He cupped my face and kissed my flavour back into my mouth. I put my fingers in his hair and held on tight. I was melting, steam was rising from us and our skin chafed like sandpaper.

 

It was coming off; we were grazed and bleeding, peeling off into raw flesh. I couldn’t breathe; his tongue had swollen so that it filled my whole mouth, preventing the air from my throat from escaping. I felt sparks being struck all over my body, and the steam was dark now, turning to smoke.

 

Crackling heat surrounded us, stripping us down to the bone, choking us, until we became the flames. Far away, I could hear the screams of our children, the desperate pleas of my parents. The treehouse was a tinder box, its thatched roof angry and orange above my scorched and bleeding eyes. The fire was in Hux’s hair and his freckles were all gone now, replaced by glowing red weals. He was the fire. He had set it off and was burning us all to death.

 

I felt the fire catch me and I lay on the burning bed, surrounded by burning timber, burning, burning up.

 

I don’t know how long after that I lay in the black nothingness of unconsciousness. It might have been hours, it was probably more like days.

 

When I opened my eyes, my eyeballs were dry as the sands of Jakku, and so was my mouth. My head ached as if a thousand ton weight was crushing it.

 

Somewhere near me, something moved. I lifted my eyes towards the movement and saw a hand, black-gloved, wrapped tightly around the bar of my hospital bed. Above it was a face, deathly pale and taut.

 

“Hello, Marillia.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Intense! Marillia's fever dream was brought to you by Air's excellent Moon Safari album, specifically the track All I Need.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title decision: I'm keeping this one for now, and using 'The Prince' for the sequel (which I have been synopsising in my head all week and can't wait to start writing...) Still a fair few chapters to go on this, though.
> 
> Warning for not-very-mild peril and Hux being a git.

Speaking wasn’t going to be on the agenda until I had something to drink, and something to drink wasn’t going to be on the agenda until I stopped feeling as if the slightest movement would make me throw up.

 

In fact, nothing at all was going to be on the agenda until Hux left the room, because the one thing I absolutely and positively couldn’t cope with right now was him.

 

I shut my eyes again. Everything was spinning. I wasn’t sure exactly where I was, but it looked very, very like the isolation ward on Starkiller Base. It had all been for nothing after all, and now I had a bursting head into the bargain. I wanted to cry, but I felt as I’d dried up from the inside out, and my tears would emerge as dust.

 

I heard the sound of booted feet crossing the room, water being poured, booted feet coming back. My eyelids darkened. There was a shadow hanging over me.

 

The shadow spoke.

 

“I know you’re awake. I have a painkiller for you. Take it.”

 

I tried to moan, but it came out as a helpless little breath. I turned my head away from him, but immediately cold leather-covered fingers seized my chin, none too gently, and wrenched my face back.

 

I gasped with the shocking roughness of it, my eyes flying open despite the blinding pain.

 

“Take it,” he reiterated harshly. The rim of the glass parted my lips, bumping up against my teeth. Water spilled down my chin, but some of it made it into my mouth, sweet relief on my tongue and parched throat.

 

Hux clicked a button and the head of the bed rose, propping me into a half-sitting position. I had no alternative now but to look dully into his eyes. What I saw there brought nothing in the way of comfort.

 

“Open wide,” he said, holding a capsule up between finger and thumb. “Painkiller.”

 

“Is it?” I whispered.

 

He raised his eyebrows, fixing me with such an intimidating stare that I wanted to pull the covers back over my head. “Don’t you trust me, Marillia?” he asked.

 

Trust wasn’t really a subject I wanted to get into with him just then, although I had a feeling it might crop up very soon anyway. I opened my mouth, let him drop the capsule on my tongue and chase it with another gulp of water. It scarcely mattered what the pill was. My options weren’t exactly plentiful.

 

“Now,” he said, sitting back down beside the bed with his hands on his knees. “I’ve been keeping vigil here for twenty-four hours, and I’m ready for an explanation.”

 

Well, this wasn’t going to aid my convalescence. I stared at the clock on the wall, my head trying to pick at threads of excuses, but all of them slipped away before they could develop into anything coherent.

 

“I think I’m going to be sick,” I stalled.

 

Calmly, he took a cardboard dish from the nightstand and handed it to me.

 

I bent over it, making fake retching sounds for a few minutes, then I sat back. The headache was already receding. I wasn’t ready to fight for my life, but I was readier than I had been.

 

“Well?” said Hux, any expression of concern for my health and comfort notable by its absence. “Are you going to tell me why you put the whole of Starkiller Base on quarantine lockdown, and had my mission recalled just at the point of completion?”

 

“I’ve been ill,” I muttered into the sick bowl. “I can’t remember…”

 

“Oh? Well, let me jog your memory for you.” He took the empty vial of Mach Fever simulator from his pocket and held it up for my inspection.

 

What could I say? Acting dumb would insult his intelligence; pretending amnesia wouldn’t wash either. In my life, I had often found it easy to lie to people who weren’t as clever as me. Unfortunately, Hux didn’t fall into this category.

 

“Do you need me to tell you, Marillia, that you are in extremely serious trouble?” he continued into my stymied silence. “What you have done is a court martial offence, and I have never known a court martial that didn’t result in summary execution. If you want me to plead your case with the Supreme Leader, you need to start talking to me, _now_.”

 

He slammed his hand down on the arm of the chair, making me jump so the sick bowl slipped from my nerveless fingers. Just as well it was empty.

 

“I can’t…” I said, playing for time.

 

“Do you want me to call Kylo Ren in? Because, let me tell you, he is _very_ keen to go to work on you.”

 

I stared at him, stricken, but even as he said it, I knew it was an empty threat. The absolutely last thing Hux would want was Kylo Ren as a witness to his humiliation. All the same, if I didn’t cough something up soon, I’d leave him with no choice.

 

“I wanted to go back home,” I blurted, fat tears sliding from my eyes as I said the word _home_. The memory of my fever dream, of how beautiful and blissful it had been, still lingered; pinpoints of jewelled light in my dark reality.

 

“You wanted to go back home?” Hux repeated, his voice laden with incredulity. “You plunged the Base into near-panic and let me believe you were dying because you…because you…”

 

No. It wasn’t enough. He didn’t buy it.

 

“I was scared,” I said.

 

“Did you have any reason to be?” he asked. “Or are you going to start with the same old _It’s all happening so fast_ again? Nobody held a gun to your head, Marillia. You had the option to say ‘no’. You had the option to say ‘not yet’.”

 

“You put this thing on before you even asked me,” I objected, tugging at the choker, which was as implacably locked on as ever. “And besides, that wasn’t what I was scared of.” I managed to control myself enough to aim a long, level stare at him. “The Mach Fever simulator wasn’t the _only_ little secret you were keeping in that cabinet, was it?”

 

I had him there. A flicker of – well, it might have been guilt, but was more likely to be irritation at being caught out – crossed his face.

 

“Was it?” I persisted. “Did you use it on me? When? How many times? And _why_?”

 

“I’m asking the questions,” said Hux stonily. “That discussion can wait until you’ve told me the truth about this farrago.”

 

“Oh, well, apparently that discussion could wait until I was in the delivery room!” I exclaimed. “For Sith’s sake, Wil! Don’t you think I have some rights over my own body? My own future?”

 

“Later,” he insisted.

 

“Fuck you!” I flung the sick bowl across the room, missing his head by an inch or so.

 

He leapt up and, for a giddy moment, I thought he was going to hit me, but he grasped the cot-side of the bed instead and bent over me, his face close up to mine.

 

“That wasn’t why you took the drug,” he hissed. “Was it? Anyone else would have got straight on the comms link to me and asked what the hell was going on. But you didn’t. You could have told me the engagement was over, you could have made a complaint against me to Sentient Resources. Both of those would be sane courses of action in the circumstances. Taking a drug that will make people think you’re dying of a highly infectious disease is not. Tell me why you did it. Are you going to make me force the truth out of you? Because I can, and I will.”

 

I nerved myself to look directly at him without cowering. He was angry, on the surface, but the anger didn’t seem quite real. There was a weird kind of triumph in it, a savage sense of vindication. I was right to be very, very afraid. He was pushing me towards a certain destination, and he knew exactly what that destination was. I could try one more move, and then I was all out of ideas.

 

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t want you to know.”

 

He drew back a little, eyes still fixed on me, glittering with anticipation.

 

“Go on.”

 

“I needed to go home when I found out what your plans were because…”

 

He didn’t move a muscle, not even a twitch. He was tense as a bowstring. I took a breath.

 

“Because there’s somebody else…on Kusa B. A man. A lover. I had to know that being with you was right, so I had to…see him again. To make sure. I didn’t know how else to get there, since you’d cancelled all my leave…”

 

My voice faltered and I watched him straighten up, look at the ceiling for a moment that seemed to last eternity, then launch into a slow hand clap.

 

“What?”

 

“Well done,” he said. “Quite a performance. You almost believe it yourself, don’t you? Thinking on your feet, lying through your teeth, nine and half out of ten for dramatic conviction. You’re going to be perfect.”

 

“I…don’t know what you mean.”

 

“Don’t you? A clever girl like you?”

 

He unclipped the cot-side mechanism and lowered it. I thought he was going to drag me out of bed, and I shrank back, scooting away from him, but instead he perched himself beside me, swung his legs on to the mattress and slipped his arm around my flinching shoulders. Even at the height of my terror, my body was treacherously grateful to be near him. My senses sighed into the contact, even as my nerves and wits told me to curl up and hide.

 

“It’s all right, Marillia, I can protect you,” he whispered, bending his lips to my ear. “It’s going to be all right.”

 

I swallowed. “Is it?”

 

“I won’t let them touch you.”

 

Somehow this was more frightening than ever.

 

“Won’t you? Can you…stop them?”

 

“Much as I’d like to kill you with my bare hands just now, I have compelling reasons for wanting you to live,” he said, so murmurously, so lovingly that he could have been speaking the sweetest words of devotion.

 

“Compelling…?” A knot tightened in my stomach, radiating waves of nausea.

 

“While you were lost to consciousness, I had the staff here run some tests on you,” he said. He stroked my arm with the tips of his fingers, a gentle gesture that made me shiver with horror.

 

“You mean…?”

 

He was smiling now; a genuine smile. He put his free hand on my stomach and held it there, the staking of a claim on it.

 

“Yes,” he breathed.

 

I screwed my eyes shut and chewed on my thumb. The implications of this were too huge. I couldn’t fit them all into my head. Whatever happened now, whether I lived or died, I would never get away from this.

 

I braved his gaze.

 

“What’s going to happen now?” I asked quietly. “Can you stop them killing me?”

 

“There won’t be a court martial, at any rate,” he said. “We have much bigger plans for you than that.”

 

“We?” Another lurch of sickening dread.

 

“Oh yes. We know what you are, Marillia. We know why you’re here.”

 

I tried to pull away from his mockery of a protective embrace, but he held me tighter, his fingers pressing hard into my upper arm.

 

“I suspected it from the very beginning,” he continued, his manner horribly calm and matter-of-fact. “Well, I’d have been a fool not to, wouldn’t I? No family, no background, no link with the old Empire. As I’ve said before, we don’t get many of your sort here. I thought I’d keep a close eye on you. Then I thought…well…it wouldn’t hurt to get a little bit closer. A lot closer. If you were loyal, you’d make a good wife. If you weren’t…”

 

“I wasn’t faking it,” I blurted. “What I felt for you…feel for you…that was real.”

 

“Don’t,” he said, shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter now.”

 

He said it didn’t, but there was pain, there was disappointment, there was humanity in there somewhere. I could hear it, I could feel it. He was rationalising this to himself, minimising the blow.

 

“It does matter,” I said. “You aren’t the monster they want you to be – you don’t have to be that man. We could be happy, just us, away from here and all this.”

 

“Oh dear,” he sighed. “You want to save me. And I want to save you. But only one of us can succeed, and you must admit, Marillia, at the moment it isn’t looking like you. I’ve told you everything is going to be all right. I mean it. It’s all going to be exactly as it should be. We’re going to live happily ever after.”

 

“But how?” I asked, my eyes swimming with tears now, the hopelessness of my situation sinking well and truly in. “Surely Snoke will want me dead? And you can’t go against him.”

 

“I don’t need to go against him. I told him what I thought we should do last night, as soon as I found that little cache of secret notes in your personal files.”

 

“You found that? But it was encrypted to the hilt!”

 

“You aren’t the only person on Starkiller Base who can decrypt, you know. Some of your colleagues know a thing or two. So, as I said, I found the incriminating evidence and I took it straight to Snoke, along with my ideas for dealing with you, which he approved.”

 

“And those ideas were?”

 

“Can’t you guess, my love? You’re going to bring down the Resistance for us.”

 

By now, I was shaking violently all over. Hux’s grip on me felt like a steel band, crushing my spirit along with my body.

 

“I’m…not…” I started, but I had no idea how to finish, so I lapsed back into shivering silence.

 

“It’s going to work so well,” he said, laying my head on his shoulder, ruffling my hair with his fingers. “You’ll stay here until the baby’s born, and you’ll feed misinformation to your little friends, once or twice a week, over the course of those nine months. There’s no firewall on my system, so you can use that to contact them. I’ll tell you what to say. You just have to type the words. We might set up a couple of screen conferences. I’d like to lay eyes on them.”

 

I regretted throwing the sick bowl across the room now. I was feeling the strong need for it.

 

“And…after the…” I couldn’t say it. If I said the word ‘baby’, it would definitely be real, and it wasn’t real, it mustn’t be real.

 

“Then the child will go to my mother, and you will go to the Indoctrination Centre for an intensive course,” he said.

 

“The Indoctrination…?” The words came out like hiccups.

 

“Yes, where our young troops are sent after harvesting.”

 

Harvesting! Abduction was what he meant. But my whole body was in such violent spasm now that I couldn’t voice the objection.

 

“It won’t take more than a few weeks,” he said. “And when you come back, you’ll be one of us – properly this time, not just playing the part. You’ll be a worthy General’s wife and mother of the future elite of the First Order. And you’ll be very happy with that. None of those agonies of conscience, none of those misguided loyalties. Won’t that be nice?”

 

“Wife?” I managed to sputter. “You mean you still want to…?”

 

“My children will be born within wedlock,” he said coldly. “It’s the First Order’s way.”

 

So here were my options now. (1) Death (2) Worse than death. But death wasn’t even an option anyway, unless it was by my own hand. Neither Hux, nor Snoke, would kill me.

 

Could I refuse to do what they wanted? It was unlikely. I could, in theory, refuse to take the marriage vows, but I felt that Hux would do whatever was in his power to get me to agree, and I didn’t really want to know how far he could, and would, go.

 

There was only one ghost of a chance for me, and that was the chance that Hux had some vestige of genuine love for me. If he did – and I had really believed this – I could still work on him.

 

It wasn’t much, but it was all I had. I had paid the price of underestimating him. I was thoroughly and comprehensively beaten.

 

“Is there anything I can do to stop this?” I asked defeatedly. “Anything I can give you in return for my freedom?”

 

“Nothing at all,” he whispered, kissing my cheek. It felt like a brand. “Now, come on. You aren’t ill, and the nurses need this bed.”

 

He threw off the covers and pulled me to my feet. I staggered a little, falling against him. He held me upright and took a set of cuffs from his belt, clicking them smartly on to my wrist before I was aware of his actions.

 

“What? Why are you…?”

 

He stroked me under my chin. “I thought you liked this kind of thing, Marillia,” he taunted, bunching the chain up in his fist and tugging at it so I had to stumble along with him, barefoot in my papery hospital gown.

 

“Can’t I at least get dressed? Where are we going?”

 

“You’ve forfeited your right to wear the uniform,” he said, drawing me towards the door. “Don’t worry. Leader Snoke won’t care what you’re wearing.”

 

 


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks, everyone, for reading and reviewing. I was very nervous about posting the last chapter because it was so grim - thanks for sticking with it.

I hadn’t known the Base went this far down. Lower than the flight decks, lower than the service areas, even lower than the trash compactors. Not that I particularly cared. Being dragged through the corridors, handcuffed and half-dressed, feeling every moment of the three days I’d spent sweating and unconscious, I had other things than the topography of Starkiller Base on my mind.

 

Hux clearly wasn’t interested in conversation, but I tried anyway.

 

“You don’t have to cuff me,” I said. “It’s not as if there’s anywhere to run.”

 

“Appearances must be maintained,” he said. “As far as Base personnel are concerned, you’re under arrest for creating a fake panic.”

 

“Won’t they think it’s weird when there isn’t a court martial?”

 

“They don’t question my decisions.”

 

“Oh. Of course not.”

 

“And neither will you, soon enough.”

 

“I’m not very susceptible to indoctrination, you know. A year at that bloody awful military camp had no effect. Well, except to make me want to leave it.”

 

“You don’t know how it works. My father will be able to explain it to you – it was his brainchild, originally.”

 

“Brainchild,” I muttered. “Brain monster, more like.”

 

“If you have nothing productive to say, you might as well shut up,” he said snippily. “In fact, just shut up anyway. I have nothing to say to you.”

 

The elevator door opened and we entered a region of strange, silent darkness. Nobody worked down here, and the air was thick and oppressive as I was marched along a narrow catwalk. Some kind of light flickered at the end of it, but it wasn’t a welcoming light. It was bluish and had a headachey, neon-like quality. I didn’t want to go near it, and I began to hang back.

 

Hux had to yank at the cuffs to make me keep up with him.

 

“I don’t like this,” I faltered.

 

“You don’t have to,” he replied.

 

The light was becoming something more repellent than I could have imagined. I looked down at my bare feet, watching them move, one in front of the other, along the rubberised flooring. It was a better option than facing what was waiting for me here.

 

The hideous apparition spoke before we halted in front of it.

 

“General,” it said, and its voice hurt my ears. “This is our secret weapon, I take it.”

 

“This is Officer Rome,” he confirmed. “I have told her what she is to do.”

 

“And she will do it?”

 

“Of course. Isn’t that so, Marillia?”

 

I couldn’t answer. Hux had to jab me between the shoulder blades to force a sound from me.

 

“Ugh. I…”

 

“Your answer,” roared the thing, which I now realised was not a pulsating wall of sheer malevolence, but a hologram.

 

Hux pressed his fingers urgently into the back of my neck. I had the feeling that he was doing it for my sake, rather than to just be unpleasant. It was a question of self-preservation that I tell Snoke what he wanted to hear.

 

“Yes, yes,” I whispered.

 

“Good. Take her, Hux, and do as we discussed. If she shows any signs of resistance, bring her down to me.”

 

“I will do so,” he said, nodding respectfully. “Do you have any further instruction?”

 

“No. But I would like a report on your mission – as far as it went.”

 

“Our systems found no trace of life on the planet,” said Hux. “There was no Jedi training camp.”

 

Snoke made a roaring kind of sound; I imagined it indicated severe displeasure.

 

“Then send Kylo Ren to me, and without delay.”

 

“Yes, sir,” purred Hux, apparently delighted to have dropped Kylo Ren in it. He guided me back along the passage. My breathing eased with each step away from Snoke. By the time we reached the elevator, I was gulping in great lungfuls of air, just to make sure I still could.

 

“How can you stand it?” I wondered. “How can you stand that…execration?”

 

“I’m used to it,” said Hux, then he spoke into his wrist-comm, directing some hapless Stormtrooper to find Kylo Ren.

 

“Does he know?” I asked. “About the…about…” I looked down at my stomach. I still couldn’t say it.

 

Hux didn’t answer, leading me to suspect that he didn’t.

 

“He doesn’t, does he? And he wouldn’t approve. Especially if he knew you why you’re so hell-bent on producing heirs. I bet he…”

 

Hux tugged the cuffs sharply, overbalancing me so that I nearly fell.

 

“You don’t know how hard I had to fight just to keep you alive,” he said in a low, savage tone. “You have no idea. So just shut up, or I’ll shut you up.”

 

I wanted to take some comfort from that, some hope, but I couldn’t feel that it was me he’d fought for. It was the part of him inside me.

 

I said nothing more until we were back at his penthouse.

 

As soon as we walked through the door, his droid bustled up, full of self-congratulation.

 

“General, sir, I have locked away all sharp objects and all potential toxins, as you ordered, and I have treated the mirrors with the anti-shattering spray. I even thought to remove all laces, belts and soforth from the wardrobes, but if you…”

 

“Thank you, that will be all,” said Hux, waving the droid away. “You’d better get into the shower,” he said to me. “After three days of Mach Fever sweats, you don’t smell too good.”

 

It was a cruel thing to say, but doubtless true. I trudged into the bathroom and put myself under the jets, sinking down until I was sitting, curled into a ball, letting the hot spray mix with my tears.

 

I was fucked. That was all there was to it.

 

Lord knew, I had enough to cry about: the prospect of undoing all the galaxy-saving work of the Resistance; losing myself and my identity; never being free again; having to watch and cheer on the hateful First Order in their murderous quest for galactic dominance; never seeing my parents again; failing everyone; failing myself; and the bloody _baby_ , oh Lord, I had no idea how to feel about that.

 

So what kind of pathetic creature was I that the biggest and most wrenching of my sobs were reserved for the idea that Hux didn’t love me any more?

 

Only the most pathetic creature since Jar Jar Binks, that was all. I bunched my fists in my hair and pulled at it in hopeless, self-hating fury.

 

“He’s a _horrible fucking bastard_ ,” I said to myself. “Don’t cry for him.”

 

But apparently taking my own advice wasn’t going to work either. I stayed there until my fingertips shrivelled and the hot water ran out, then I put on the bathrobe hanging on the back of the door and stood for a long time, trying to summon up the will, or the nerve, or the bravado, to face up to what lay outside.

 

Hux was in the living room, working feverishly on several info-pads at the same time. He had a tumbler of single malt on the go, and an open pack of Synapse Snappers. I hadn’t seen those since my time at Zyron, working all night on deadlined assessments.

 

I cleared my throat. He didn’t look up, just pulled an irritated face at being interrupted in his calculations.

 

“Is this…how it is, then?” I asked. “Do we just…live together? Or what?”

 

“Go to bed,” he said, without looking at me. “I don’t have time for this.”

 

“Please. I really need to talk to you.”

 

“I really need you to get out of my sight,” he snarled, flinging the empty pill pack at me. I stepped back in alarm, towards the bedroom.

 

“There are force fields in effect at all access points,” he called after me. “So don’t bother trying to get out of here.”

 

There would be no reasoning with him tonight, that much was clear. I hunkered down on the bed, pulled the covers over me and lay there, shivering and blank-headed, until the relief of sleep claimed me.

 

I woke again after a couple of broken, nightmare-heavy hours. I was confused at first, thinking that everything was the way it had been before, wondering where Hux was. I got up and tiptoed to the archway that led to the living space, hanging back in the shadows while the heartbreaking realisation of how things were now filtered back into my consciousness.

 

Hux was still working on his multiple devices. In their flickering blue light, he looked like an exhausted ghost; washed-out, drawn and desperately unhappy. The whiskey decanter was half-empty now. Pills were scattered about the table, and a thin, curling column of blue smoke rose from a cut-glass receptacle. Lord, was that a _cigarette?_ They were totally banned across the Base.

 

But Hux didn’t seem to care for his own rule, lifting the cigarette to his lips and taking a long, weary drag.

 

I felt guilty for watching him like this, although I couldn’t have said why.

 

He put down the cigarette and put his hands over his face, exhaling a shuddering breath. His shoulders twitched along with it. He was a picture of misery. I wanted to go to him so badly it brought tears to my eyes.

 

But he wouldn’t want that. He wouldn’t want me to see this.

 

I went reluctantly back to bed but, despite my heavy head and sore eyes, I couldn’t go back to sleep. I lay in the dark, listening to the occasional clumsy thunk of the tumbler on the table, the tip-tapping of his fingers on the keyboard, a muttered curse here and there.

 

This went on for another hour, and then there was silence.

 

I got out of bed again and went back to the living room. The devices still flickered, but all the screensavers were on; their fans still whirred into the darkness.

 

The decanter was almost empty; the tumbler lay on its side on the floor. The ashtray overflowed with stubs and the pill pack was crumpled and spent. It was five forty five, and Hux was sprawling half-on and half-off the sofa, insensible and steeped in the sour tang of whiskey.

 

I knelt beside him and put my palm to his cheek. It was booze-reddened, unruly ginger stubble sprouting beyond his neatly-kept sideburns. The action did nothing to rouse him; he was fathoms deep in alcoholic stupor.

 

I got up and went to look for the droid. It was standing against the kitchen counter, in low power mode.

 

“Hello,” I said softly. “I need your help.”

 

It sprang to life, lights snapping on in its eye sockets, raising its hands to me.

 

“I am programmed to obey General Hux,” it said coldly. “I am instructed to disregard your commands, Miss Rome.”

 

“I daresay you are,” I said, “but the General needs our help. Will you at least come and see?”

 

The droid stood there for a few moments, then clanked reluctantly into action, following me into the living room.

 

“Can you help me get him into bed?” I asked, as it surveyed the recumbent form of its master. “If he stays there like that for much longer, he’ll be stiff as a board when he wakes up.”

 

“Yes, I can see that,” said the droid with asperity. “Goodness me. Smoking. He hasn’t touched a cigarette in years. It’ll take _days_ to get the smoke out of the upholstery.”

 

“Freshburst is good,” I suggested. “If you can get it here. Anyway, if you take one arm and I take the other…”

 

“Very well.” The droid slung Hux’s left arm over its shoulder and I scooted underneath his right side, and together we managed to heave our unconscious burden off the sofa and drag him into the bedroom.

 

He half-woke during this effort, and staggered along with us, but he didn’t seem aware of what was going on, able to utter nothing but a low, inchoate moan. Before we could reach the bed, he stumbled forwards, fell to his knees and threw up all over the carpet.

 

“Oh, for pity’s _sake_!” cussed the droid, dashing off to organise basins of water and disinfectant.

 

There wasn’t a lot to clear up; apparently Hux hadn’t eaten all day, reminding me that neither had I. Yellowish, whiskey-infused bile was all the droid had to deal with, while I helped Hux down on to the bed, removing his boots and belt and loosening his collar.

 

Once the droid had gone, leaving the strong odour of cleaning products in its wake, I turned off the lights to let in the gradual dawn and sat on the bed, just looking at him.

 

The creeping light changed his insensible face, minute by minute. I couldn’t take my eyes away from it. Even after the sun had fully risen, I was frozen in place; a watcher with a precious mission. There was no sense or reason to it, or to me, or to my life, or to anything any more.

 

Later on, when he stirred, muttering nonsense in his sleep, I realised that I had wasted a golden opportunity. He was probably still logged into all his devices. I could have gone into the living area and caused a thousand kinds of mischief. Why hadn’t this occurred to me? The stress of the past few days had switched off some neural pathways, apparently, rendering me numb and stupid.

 

Only now, as he groaned and shifted positions, could I begin to think again. Why was I watching so tenderly over a man who held me prisoner? A man who intended to strip me of every vestige of my identity until I was a mindless First Order cheerleader. A man who, whether or not he believed he loved me, had always planned to use me as an incubator. _Had_ he ever loved me? How could he, if he was capable of such cold and ruthless cruelty towards me? It could never have been love. I had been a fool to think it.

 

But then, why the heavy drinking binge? It seemed out of character; the action of a man in pain, trying to blot it out. Was there a chance that, on some level, he wasn’t happy with what he was called upon to do? Had he genuinely thought that I was loyal and would worship at his feet for the rest of my life, popping out babies every couple of years to add to the grand Hux dynasty? Perhaps he really had.

 

He didn’t deserve my compassion, but I imagined the blow to his pride and almost felt it in my solar plexus. And for everyone to know… From Snoke to the lowliest caretaker – and including Kylo Ren! Yes, I could see how devastating that would be for him. He could only salvage his reputation in their eyes by using me like this, pretending it had all been calculated. Nobody would be able to accuse him of sentimentality, that was for sure.

 

My reeling thoughts began to unspool when his eyelashes flickered and he hissed in pain, clapping a hand over his eyes. I got up and poured him a glass of water from the jug, recalling how he had done the same for me only a few hours earlier. The droid had left two of the magic-bullet painkillers on the nightstand, and I held them in my palm, ready to offer.

 

“Painkillers,” I said, and the sound of my voice seemed to launch him into a panic.

 

He sat bolt upright, red-eyed and translucently pale, raking nervous fingers through his hair.

 

“You,” he said.

 

“Yes, me. Here. Have a painkiller.” I held out the glass and the pills.

 

“Is it?” he said, echoing my uncertainty in the sanatorium.

 

I nodded, smiling grimly. “The droid got them from the cabinet. I don’t have access, do I?”

 

He took the water and the pills and downed them quickly. His fingers trembled as he put the glass down. I sat down beside him on the bed, my stomach heaving with a strange mixture of fear and tenderness.

 

“You should take the day off work,” I said.

 

“Shit, what time is it? Shit!” He dashed his wrist-comm against his forehead, which couldn’t have done much to alleviate the existing pain. “I don’t have time to…”

 

“Take the day off,” I repeated, rolling my eyes.

 

He glared at me. “I’ve never taken a sick day in my working life,” he said.

 

“You must be owed a few by now then. Take a couple of hours, at least. I’m sure Colonel Dobar won’t mind one more day at the helm.”

 

“Hmm.” Hux didn’t sound reassured by this thought, but he laid his head back on the pillow and shut his eyes. “Just a couple of hours, maybe.”

 

We sat in silence for five or ten minutes, then Hux opened one eye, straining to look up at me.

 

“You didn’t kill me,” he said.

 

He sounded as surprised as I felt.

 

“Well…no,” I said. “I wouldn’t.”

 

He sat up, keeping his eyes locked on mine.

 

“I would have,” he said. “In your position. Wouldn’t have thought twice about it.”

 

“You’d have killed me?”

 

“Not _you_ ,” he said, and for the first time there was a note of warmth in his voice. “I mean, whoever was holding me against my will.” He paused. “Why didn’t you?”

 

“I don’t know,” I said, looking away. “Perhaps I should have done. But I don’t think I could. I couldn’t even leave you alone after you passed out in case you choked on…”

 

But it was me who was choking, on the horrible awareness that I still loved him, despite everything. I fought to catch my breath, but it was long gone.

 

He put his hand on mine, awkwardly, gently.

 

“Well, thank you,” he whispered. “I didn’t deserve it.” With a determined effort, he got himself off the bed. “And now I must take a shower,” he said, scuttling towards the door as if my presence was burning him. “Don’t go anywhere.”

 

“I’m pretty sure that’s not a possibility,” I said.

 

The bedroom door shut behind him. I lay down, put my face in the pillow I should have used to suffocate him, and wept.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you buckets for the fabulous comments - especially the THEORIES! I love theories. Can't comment on any of them, sadly, but I still love them.
> 
> Now, on to Hux and Marillia. Is there any hope for them?

By the time Hux emerged from the shower, I’d organised breakfast – shooing the droid out of the kitchen, despite its insistence that only it knew how to brew the caffa correctly and time the eggs right.

 

It went off to spray-clean the upholstery, in a droid huff – somehow very much more annoying than a human huff.

 

“It’s OK. I didn’t poison it,” I said, as Hux came into the room, almost his old sleek self apart from a reddish tinge about the eyes.

 

He looked down at the spread with mild suspicion before pouring himself an epically large glass of organo-juice and downing it in one.

 

“I’m going to follow your advice and take the day off,” he said, sitting down opposite me. “We need to talk.”

 

My heart lurched, either hopefully or fearfully – I couldn’t tell.

 

“Are those eggs properly cooked?” he asked sharply, as I raised a forkful to my mouth.

 

“Uh, I think so.”

 

“The yolk isn’t set. You can’t have them.” He pulled the plate away from me, somewhat to my confusion, until the credit dropped.

 

“Oh…I’m sure they’re safe enough,” I protested.

 

“You can’t possibly be sure,” he snapped. “Have a muffin instead.”

 

“I seem to be in the custody of the womb police,” I muttered.

 

“That’s not funny,” said Hux, narrowing his eyes.

 

“No,” I said. “And neither is my situation, in case you hadn’t considered it.”

 

This seemed to chasten him. He chewed on his lower lip as he buttered his toast, sad-eyed and abstracted.

 

“You’ve brought all this on yourself,” he said at last. “You must have known the risks when you accepted the mission.”

 

“I knew it was risky, yes. But I never expected…” I caught his gaze, willing me to believe me, to trust me, to love me again.

 

“Oh, I didn’t think you were a honeytrap,” he said, his lips quivering up at the corners for a second. “They wouldn’t have sent _you_ , if that was the aim.”

 

“Oh, wouldn’t they?” I said, ridiculously affronted.

 

“No,” he said, and his smile was genuinely affectionate. “You really aren’t the type.”

 

“Why, what’s the type, then?”

 

“Worldly, sophisticated, conventionally beautiful. Not a naïve babe-in-arms like you. Honestly, are the Resistance going to be sending junior cadets next? It’s rather reassuring, in a way. I can downgrade the threat level across all bases.”

 

“I wasn’t supposed to seduce you,” I said, a little crestfallen. I mean, I knew I wasn’t conventionally beautiful, but there was no need to remind me. “I had no intention of having anything to do with you.”

 

“You didn’t seduce me – as I remember, it was the other way around. And you weren’t exactly fighting me off. So what _was_ that about, Marillia? Did you think you could pillow-talk me into revealing all the First Order’s secrets? Was it for glory?”

 

“No.” I swallowed. “I tried not to…I was just…it was stupid…”

 

“Did it excite you, to be so close to your sworn enemy? Was that it? I must admit, there was an element of that for me, too. I didn’t know whether you were a spy or not, but imagining that you might be rather turned me on.”

 

There was a look in his eye I knew only too well; even now it hit me straight between the legs.

 

“D-did it?”

 

“Oh yes. Acting out the First Order’s intentions for the Republic on, shall we say, a micro-level. Especially the kinky stuff. Although I can see the metaphorical angle might not appeal to you so much.”

 

“There was none of that for me,” I said. “I just fancied you. Nothing more to it.”

 

“You threw yourself in the way of danger because you found me attractive?” He wrinkled his nose. “Oh, come on, Marillia. Really?”

 

“You were quite hard to say no to.”

 

“Mm, perhaps. People don’t, as a rule.”

 

“I was in way too deep from the start. I couldn’t stop myself. I fell for you. I really loved you.”

 

“And yet you intended to sell me out to the Resistance?”

 

“Not you, personally. The First Order. I know, it’s ridiculous to hate everything you stand for, and yet love you. I know it is… I wish there was something I could have done to just snap myself out of it. But there you are. That’s the way it was. Is. Was. I know I’ve ruined my life by loving you…I know…”

 

I had to stop talking and swallow back these incessant bloody tears. I used to think I’d forgotten how to cry, after my parents were taken. Boy, was it all coming back to me now.

 

Hux watched me wordlessly, waiting for me to recover what little composure I had left.

 

“They really saw you coming, didn’t they?” he said softly. “The Resistance. They threw you in at the deep end. I doubt they really cared whether you’d sink or swim. Did they even train you at all?”

 

“Not much,” I admitted. “I think they thought that, since I was good at coding, I’d be able to handle everything else as well.”

 

Hux shook his head. “Totally irresponsible,” he said. “This all happened at Zyron, I take it?”

 

I nodded.

 

“Who recruited you?”

 

“I’m not going to tell you that,” I said, almost apologetically.

 

“Well, you will,” he contradicted. “But it can wait for another day. How old were you?”

 

“Sixteen.”

 

He sucked in a breath.

 

“Seriously? _Sixteen_?”

 

I didn’t think he really had that much claim to the moral high ground here, and I tried to temper my rising rage.

 

“You start on the Stormtroopers when they’re little kids,” I reminded him.

 

“That’s different. We don’t send children to do an adult’s work.”

 

“But you take parents from their children,” I said, my eyes brimming again. “That’s how all this happened. You took my parents…you abducted them.”

 

“Did we?” He actually looked shocked.

 

“Yes! I was twelve, and I had nobody else. I had no idea what had happened to them until the Resistance told me…”

 

“Oh. The Resistance told you this?”

 

“Yes, and it solved the mystery at last. Why would anybody else have abducted them?”

 

“Plenty of reasons,” said Hux. “Kidnap. Slavery. Trafficking.”

 

“Oh, come on, are you trying to say that the First Order had nothing to do with it?”

 

“It was eleven years ago. We abandoned the idea of retraining adults as Stormtroopers after an initial lack of success…thirteen years ago. I think you’ve been spun a line, Marillia.”

 

I put down my muffin half-eaten.

 

“You’re just saying that…to…”

 

“I can check the archive for you, if you like.” He rose, motioning me to follow him to the living room, where he called up the records of past missions and raids on the big screen.

 

“Everything is on file,” he told me, scrolling through. “I’m meticulous about record-keeping, as are all First Order officers. There are no gaps, or deletions, or oversights in this archive.”

 

I believed him. I’d had to complete enough paperwork in my month or so on the Senior Deck to fill an entire memory shelf at the Institute.

 

“When did it happen?” he asked me, as I watched oceans of text roll by.

 

I told him the exact date, and he fed it into the search facility. Nothing came up.

 

He turned to me, grave-faced.

 

All I could do was stare.

 

“Can you…maybe they didn’t input it till later…maybe go forward a week or so.”

 

He called up all the records for that month. No First Order activity had taken place in my system, let alone on my planet.

 

I felt as if I’d been punched, hard, in the gut. Hux watched me keenly for a few seconds, then he put a hand on my shoulder, drawing me close to him. I followed my instincts and hid my face against his chest, letting him wrap his arms around me and support me before my wobbling legs gave way.

 

“I don’t understand,” I said jerkily.

 

“Or you don’t want to understand,” he murmured. “You’ve been played, my love. They wanted to use your skills so they made up a story to hook you in. They took advantage of your vulnerability.”

 

“But then…what happened to them?” I raised my face to his. He unstuck the stray hairs from my forehead with a solicitous thumb.

 

“Your parents? Probably traffickers. The galaxy is lawless under the Republic. Things will change when the First Order take control, that much I can promise. I’m just sorry it will be too late for you.”

 

I almost wanted to slap him for making political capital out of this devastating paradigm shift, but I felt too safe and grateful in his arms. My life had to be pretty dangerous for Hux’s embrace to feel secure, but there it was.

 

“I’ve been such a fool,” I lamented. “Oh, lord. Such a fool. I could be on Kusa B now, with a nice well-paid job at the government tech facility. A nice home. A nice life. Maybe a nice boyfriend.”

 

Hux made an almost-inaudible growling sound at the back of his throat.

 

“Well, you aren’t,” he said flatly. “You’re here, with me. Yes, you have been a fool, but you don’t need to continue being one.”

 

I detached my cheek from his chest and squinted up at him.

 

“You think this will change my view of the First Order? It’s not that simple, Wil.”

 

“Why not?” he asked urgently. “You have a chance to look at us now with clear eyes. See what we stand for, what we offer the galaxy.”

 

“Destruction!” I said. “This whole base is a weapon of mass-murder. I can’t, in all conscience…I just can’t.”

 

“I don’t want to kill anyone, any more than you do,” said Hux, not entirely convincingly. “But I strongly believe that the end sometimes justifies the means.”

 

“Not these means,” I said. “And not this end.”

 

He sighed. “We can debate this another time,” he said. “And, while I can forgive you a bleeding heart today, I’m not always so tolerant of them. It would be so much better if you could come to us naturally, rather than having to go through the indoctrination programme.”

 

I looked him in the eye. “Do you know what? I almost wish I could. I’m so tired of having to feel guilty for loving you.”

 

He cupped my face in his hands. “Well, if the will is there, I can hope,” he said.

 

“You believe me, then? That I love you?”

 

I wanted him to kiss me, and I knew this was a weird thing to want, in the circumstances, so I looked away before yearning could overwhelm me.

 

“Yes, I do,” he said. “For what it’s worth.”

 

A sting in the tail.

 

“And…you?” I hardly dared to ask, but I needed to know more than anything.

 

He took my hand. “Come and sit down,” he said, leading me to the sofa.

 

It no longer smelled of cigarette smoke – the droid had done a fine job. We sat side by side, Hux holding my hand in his lap, our knees touching.

 

“Marillia,” he said hesitantly. “When the message came through to me that you were ill with suspected Mach Fever, I ordered that you should be transferred immediately to the specialist ward on Zyron. I didn’t stop to reflect. Even though I’d always entertained doubts about your loyalty, my first and only thought was that you had to get well again.”

 

I scrunched my fingers up in his, which were tight and stiff.

 

“But they didn’t transfer me,” I whispered.

 

“No,” he said, his eyes clouding. “Snoke countermanded the order. By the time I returned, you were out of danger, so I went straight to my cabinet to check…” He drew a long breath. “Never again do I want to feel the way I felt when that moment of realisation hit me.”

 

We sat under a cloud of silence, until it became too oppressive to bear.

 

“’M’sorry,” I said. “That must have been horrible.”

 

“Yes,” he said. “So you see, I must have loved you, to have let my sense desert me in the way it did… Standing there in the bathroom with that empty vial, I could see everything I’d worked for in ruins – I stood to lose Snoke’s high opinion, my reputation, Starkiller Base itself. All because I’d wanted to believe you were something you weren’t. I wanted to believe that too much, more than was rational. Even with the vial in my hand, I tried to come up with excuses for you. Love is little more than madness, apparently, and I regret it. It should never have happened.”

 

“That’s pretty much how I feel,” I said. “We’ve both done the same thing – let our hearts rule our heads. And in doing so, we’ve had our hearts broken. Ironic.”

 

“Very,” he agreed. “But the breakage doesn’t have to be permanent.”

 

“Doesn’t it? You’re more optimistic than me, then.”

 

“Snoke wanted you dead, straight away,” said Hux. “Even when I made the case for using you as a double agent, he thought it would be a safer and better option to just kill you and have done with it. I had to argue my point until I could barely speak. I had to risk my position by telling him I’d always known you were Resistance – that I’d planned this. I’d rather he thought me a deceiver than a fool. Which made him furious with me, for not telling him before. It was an…uncomfortable…interview.”

 

Literally, I realised, with a sharp pang of sympathy for him. Snoke would have made him sweat blood.

 

“But I convinced him in the end. Even in my anger and humiliation, I wanted you to live.”

 

“But wasn’t that because of…” I put a hand on my stomach.

 

“Partly, of course. But not wholly. I wanted to hurt you, yes. I wanted you to feel my pain. But that’s natural, in the circumstances. And now you’ve felt it, it isn’t what I want any more.”

 

“So…what _do_ you want?”

 

“I want us to make the best of this mess. You don’t owe the Republic any loyalty, Marillia – surely you must see that now. Turn your back on them – come to us, and I may be able to persuade Snoke to drop the indoctrination programme. It’ll take a long time for me to trust you, but we have months. Nine months. By then, I’m sure I can make you see that there is no other future for the galaxy. We can put all this behind us. We can be happy – I can make you happy, I know I can.”

 

At that moment, nothing would have felt more like a sweet relief than to just throw everything aside and say, yes, all right, I’ll abandon every principle I ever had and join the First Order. But I knew it would be the exhaustion and fear and love for Hux talking – not my true self.

 

“You could make me so happy,” I said slowly. “Happier than I’ve ever been. But not as General Hux. Not as a First Order commander. I’m sorry, I wish I could say otherwise, but I’d be lying.”

 

His face fell for a second, but his eye regained its evangelical light almost immediately.

 

“You just need time to think,” he said. “You’ll come round.”

 

He was utterly sure of himself again; his crisis of self-doubt and confusion had passed like a flash summer storm.

 

“I suppose that’s what you thought about getting me pregnant as well?” I said, his confidence making me waspish.

 

“I needed to know that you could,” he said, without a trace of apology.

 

“What? So if I didn’t, the whole thing was off? What about the whirlwind courtship and the wedding and all that?”

 

“It was a calculated risk,” he said. “If nothing happened by the wedding date, I’d have postponed.”

 

“You’re a cold-blooded…” I shook my head. “Would you have told me?”

 

He evaded my eye. “Perhaps,” he said. “Eventually. But I didn’t see the harm. We would have had children anyway. Why not sooner rather than later?”

 

“Why not mention it to me?” I exploded. “Do you really not see how wrong it was?”

 

“Don’t,” he hissed, “talk to me about doing wrong, when you have practised deception throughout our relationship.”

 

“That’s different! I was trying to do the right thing.”

 

“What you’d been brainwashed into thinking was the right thing,” he countered, alive with zeal. “Your liberal intelligentsia on Zyron have no idea what’s right or wrong any more. They’re more interested in semantics than actual ethics. As a woman of conscience, Marillia, you belong here.”

 

“With a man who has none?” I cried, raising my hand.

 

He caught it straight away, in an iron grip.

 

“Are you going to slap me again, Marillia?” he asked, eyes wild with excitement. “Do you remember how that worked out for you the last time?”

 

My blood pounded in my ears. I hated him, I loved him, I wanted him so much that my half-crazed mind thought he was a missing part of me.

 

I made a sound that might have communicated fear or desperation or helpless desire, and was in fact composed of all three.

 

He chose to translate it as the latter.

 

As he pushed me down into the sofa’s leathery embrace, I thought _Why not? Why not take the only sweet thing left to me?_ I raised my face to him, kissed him back just as hard as he kissed me, fighting his tongue with mine.

 

It was connection I needed, and he needed it just as badly. Perhaps he had never experienced it before he met me. I only knew that I could never feel it with anyone else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a reviewer said last time - it's fucked up, but I love it.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to the tangled web of Hux and Marillia, with bonus kinky sex especially for Stiletto Ren ;).

My legs were wrapped around his hips and my fingers were scrunched in his hair before my brain could push back against the primitive drum-beat of my blood.

 

Even then, all it said was, _You’ve got nothing else to look forward to in your life. Go for it._

 

So I went for it, hammer and tongs, tooth and nail. The tooth and nail bit was literal; I drew blood from his lower lip. He gasped and knelt up, putting fingers to the abrasion.

 

“My wildcat’s back,” he gloated, apparently pleased to see it. “One thing I was never in any doubt about was your enthusiasm in the bedroom. Nobody could fake that.”

 

“Shut up,” I panted, needing him back on me, crushing me into a base elemental version of myself. “Please,” I added as an afterthought. Hux didn’t like being told what to do, ever.

 

He responded by untying my bathrobe - which was all I had to wear here - and sliding the belt out of its loops. I was naked underneath, and bared for his inspection.

 

“Turn over,” he commanded, and I shrugged the robe all the way off and lay with my breasts and stomach pressed into it, falling into the uncomplicated, yet complex, pleasure of sexual powerlessness.

 

“Wrists,” he said, reaching for them and tying them tight in the small of my back. “There, I think I might be safe now.” He leant forward and put his bleeding lips to my neck, kissing and sucking. The grip of his knees around my hips, the weight of his hands on my shoulders, the hot steam of his breath against my skin were all things I’d despaired of knowing again. My body was full with the joy of it, wanting him locked into me, tattooed on to me, permanently joined up with me.

 

He found my mouth and I tasted the metal tang of his blood, running the tip of my tongue over the bump I’d made. He was careful this time; more restrained and in control, and he was able to tame my teeth and keep my tongue in proper check.

 

Having kissed me into the required submission, he braced an arm beneath my ribcage and pulled me up on to my knees. I couldn’t use my elbows to steady myself, so I buried my cheek in the sofa, neck twisted so I was looking into the room, and tried to ignore the mild ache in my arms. I wished I could see what he was doing behind me, but I saw his shirt land with a flump on the floor, and then heard the jingle of unbuckling.

 

“What shall I do with you?” he asked. “What do you think?”

 

“I don’t care,” I said truthfully. “Whatever you want.”

 

“You’ve learned to tell me what I want to hear,” he said, running a finger from my bound wrists up my spine, bringing his hand to rest between my shoulder blades then gripping the scruff of my neck. The golden choker tightened against my throat. “But I want it to be instinctive. I want to make it perfectly clear to you that you are mine.”

 

“I’m yours,” I whispered, knowing it to be true.

 

“I’ll show you,” he whispered back. He reached down to find his trousers on the floor and took something out of the pocket – a jar of something, from the flash of his fingers that I caught.

 

Unsure of what to expect, I stiffened, pulling against the cord that restrained my wrists, but he noticed and gave the inside of my thigh a light little smack of warning.

 

“You hold that position,” he said. “You know I won’t harm you. There’s no need to panic.”

 

I heard him unscrew the lid and then there were a few seconds of agonising suspense before two of his fingers, coated in lubricant, slid between my rear cheeks and set to work, gently but firmly, massaging the space within.

 

“Oh no,” I whimpered, trying to buck forward out of his range, but he pulled me back, repeated the slap to my inner thigh and held me in place with his free hand.

 

“Not what you were expecting?” he said, digging deeper. “I told you I’d show you you were mine, and I don’t know a more effective way than this. If you behave yourself, I can make it feel good for you.”

 

I gritted my teeth, braced against the invasion. I had never done this before, never wanted to, but the thought of Hux doing it to me, now, was unearthing a set of desires so deep-seated I hadn’t known they existed. They announced their presence now, unfurling from their seedpods and curling up towards the surface of me, mingling with the confusion of lust and love that rioted there. They wanted this.

 

“You’re too tense,” he said. “You have to relax, or it will hurt.” One fingertip was poised, ready to breach the virgin ring.

 

“I can’t,” I protested. “It feels…like I can’t.”

 

He released my thigh and moved that hand to my clit, massaging it in slow, circular motions until the tightness in my belly slackened and I began to let go of myself.

 

“Good,” he said softly. “That’s it…let it happen…” He kept up his pressure between my lower lips until my breathing was hectic and my legs trembled with the force of incipient climax. Then – just as I felt it rising within me – he pushed his lubricated finger forward, one swift jab, and I was speared.

 

I breathed in hard, but I didn’t fight him. His attentions to my clit had made me receptive to anything else he might do, and I was no longer tensed. Surprisingly, it didn’t feel bad. It felt weird, but not bad.

 

“Well done,” he said. “How’s that?”

 

I could feel him moving his finger around inside, swivelling, exploring the limits. He was right. It really did make me feel that I belonged to him in a very primal way.

 

I replied with a low-throated sigh that he took as permission to continue. He added another finger and I whimpered as he parted the two like scissors, stretching me.

 

“Totally…mine,” he whispered, pushing deeper, sliding back. I felt every scintilla of sensation: the good, the bad and the downright dirty.

 

He had removed his other hand from between my legs, which was disappointing, but I could hear that he was up to something with it – something involving the lube. I could guess what it was.

 

When he pulled his invading fingers out, I knew that I was right. They were about to be replaced, and I was about to cross a new frontier of erotic experience. I didn’t fear it any more – I didn’t even worry about whether it would hurt. I lay in position, quivering with anticipation, and I didn’t flinch when I felt a blunt, impossibly wide, pressure as he lined himself up.

 

He put his hands firmly on my hips, perhaps expecting a last-minute rebellion from me.

 

When he didn’t get it, he bent to my ear and said, “This will probably hurt for a moment or two. But it will pass. Be brave.”

 

He pushed forward, and I fell prey to an instant of panic. It wasn’t possible, he couldn’t fit, he was going to damage me.

 

“Oh, no,” I fluttered, clenching and unclenching my helpless fingers. “You can’t…”

 

“Just for a moment,” he reminded me, pushing determinedly forward. The moment seemed to last a painful, uncomfortable age, but then, just as he had forecast, it passed. He had me exactly where he wanted me, bent over and crammed full, and I absorbed the inescapable reality of my submission with more relish than was probably sane.

 

It wasn’t as if I was going to need sanity any more anyway.

 

Emerging slowly from my foggy mix of new and strange sensation, I became aware of Hux’s laboured breathing and the tension with which he was holding himself in check.

 

“All mine now,” he said, whether to me or himself I couldn’t tell. He put his hand back between my legs and worked on me again while I grew used the feel of him. He waited for my breath to shorten and my hips to start grinding, then he drew himself back and began to thrust.

 

Again, the moment of panic at the wrongness of how it all felt, but it was easily dispelled by his continuing manipulations, and very soon he was able to slide back and forth without any protest from me. I was deep in the dark nether space he had propelled me into. I felt pleasure and pain as one, embracing the discomfort as part of the thrill, wanting to be taken by him until there was nothing else in the world but this one amazing, intense fuck.

 

His talented fingers administered a climax that would have been wild even in the normal way, but with him inside me, pushing me towards a different edge, it threw my whole body and mind into a power surge that almost knocked me out. I thrashed like a speared snake, howling out Lord knew what while tears rushed into my eyes.

 

“Oh, Marillia,” he said tightly, then he gripped my shoulder hard and made me accept his final offering, while his thumb made a dent in the back of my neck. He stayed like that, as deep inside me as he could possibly get, for a good long while afterwards while he laid his upper body down on top of mine, pressing against my bound arms, burying his face in my neck.

 

“You can’t ever leave me,” he said, sounding exhausted. “You can’t leave me now.”

 

I was beyond speech, which was lucky. I could have promised him anything at that moment.

 

Some time later, once we were able to disengage and stand up without wobbly legs, we took a bath together, leaving the droid - as tight-lipped as a droid could be - to clean up the sofa for the second time that day. I wondered what was worse: lube or cigarette smoke? And what else could we do to trash the furniture before nightfall?

 

I lay back between Hux’s legs in the tub and rested my shiny wet head on his chest while he soaped my breasts with a great deal more thoroughness than was absolutely necessary.

 

“They don’t seem to be any bigger,” he observed, spreading the lather all over.

 

“What? Why would they be?” I squirmed a little, aware of how my bottom throbbed with residual soreness. The warm water was helping, but it was pretty raw all the same.

 

“It’s supposed to be a side-effect, isn’t it?” he said, and my stomach dropped. I kept forgetting. How could I keep forgetting something like that?

 

“Oh, of pregnancy,” I said dully. “Right. I guess it’s too early.”

 

“I suppose so,” he said. “You haven’t noticed any other symptoms?”

 

“To be honest, I’ve had quite a lot on my mind,” I snarked.

 

“Not to mention your body,” he parried. “You’ve had an _awful_ lot on that.”

 

I slumped against him, my head lolling to the side.

 

“You’ve killed me,” I said, “with your devastating rapier wit.”

 

“Of which sarcasm is the lowest form,” he said, pinching a nipple to shock me back into life.

 

“Well, they say that, but I always think there are much lower forms. I mean, does sarcasm really rank below species-ist jokes, for instance? I think we need to re-order the forms of wit to reflect our modern society.”

 

“You make a fair point,” said Hux, and we lay quietly for a while – just long enough for me to wish my life could always consist of lying in a post-coital bath talking affectionate nonsense with this man. Why did everything else have to exist?

 

He finally deemed my breasts to be clean enough and moved his hands up, past my collarbone. One finger traced the line of the gold choker, along its slender curve and back, contemplatively.

 

“I don’t think we should wait any longer to get married,” he said.

 

I twisted my neck to read his face. It was distant, oblique.

 

“You mean, not even the couple of weeks until your next leave? Why?”

 

“Because that’s what I’ve decided.”

 

The water swirled around me as I turned to face him properly.

 

“You do realise you’re not Emperor yet? You might be used to everyone falling into line as soon as you raise a hand, but I’m not some Stormtrooper battalion.”

 

“No, you’re a Resistance spy under house arrest,” he countered with asperity. “You’re very lucky not to be languishing in the cell block. Perhaps you might consider counting your blessings.”

 

“My…” I paused to let the danger of spluttering pass. “My blessings? You’re serious?”

 

“Yes, I’m serious,” he said. “You are in a position many women would envy. You have every chance of becoming a significant figure in intergalactic history. What’s so terrible about that?”

 

“Darth Vader’s a significant figure in intergalactic history, but I wouldn’t want his life.”

 

“Don’t be facetious. You know what I mean. You’ll have security, privilege, family. And a husband who loves you.”

 

The last bit took the gas right out of my jets. All those attributes were worth something, but the last was the one that really mattered to me.

 

“I know that,” I said, more gently. “But I don’t understand why you’ve changed your mind about doing it at your next leave.”

 

“The plans I had are no longer appropriate,” he said, looking past me into the middle distance. “I’ll arrange for somebody qualified to come and conduct the service here instead. As soon as possible.”

 

“Here? But…what about your father? I thought the whole rush was about his failing health and wanting him to…oh.” I bit my lip. Hux lowered his eyelids, hiding any hint of expression from me. “You don’t want him there now,” I said. “He wouldn’t approve.”

 

“Of my marrying a Resistance mole? No, not really.”

 

“Bit awkward at the wedding breakfast,” I agreed. “Does he have to know?”

 

“I imagine he already does. His old council cronies keep him posted on everything that goes on in the First Order.”

 

“Has he been in touch with you?”

 

“Not yet.”

 

“What about your mother?”

 

He shook his head, exhaling wearily.

 

“So you want to present them with a fait accompli?”

 

“Once the child is born, my mother’s view will change,” he said. “And my father will be dead by then, in all likelihood. But, as things stand…”

 

“Will it cause a rift?” I said, putting my hand on his arm, alarmed at the haunted look in his eyes.

 

“I don’t know. I hope not. But he will consider me weak for letting you live, let alone making you my wife. Even if I told him about the baby, he would advise me to kill you anyway and look for a loyal First Order woman. No doubt he’s right…no doubt…”

 

“No,” I said vehemently, tightening my grip on him. “He’s wrong. _You_ are right. You can’t kill everyone who disagrees with you. You’re a better man than him already, a much better man.”

 

“We have very different beliefs in that respect,” he said, but not coldly. “Being a good man is less important to me than being a good leader. I think I’m good enough for you, though. And you, despite everything, are good enough for me. Nobody - not my father, not our supreme leader - will change my mind on this. The sooner we marry, the sooner everybody can get on with things and forget this whole furore.”

 

“Does your father even need to know the knot’s been tied?” I suggested. “Can’t you keep it hushed up until after he…well, you know…after he’s gone?”

 

“Well, as I’ve said, he’ll find out one way or another. You can’t change a battery on Starkiller Base without it getting back to him. It’ll make for an uncomfortable deathbed conversation but…” He brought his hands out of the water with a mighty churn and put them around my neck, bending close to me. “Fuck it,” he said, almost exultantly. “Everything I’ve ever done has been to please him. I won’t be browbeaten for doing this one thing for myself.”

 

“Good for you,” I said, darting forward to kiss his lips. “Wil Hux is his own man.”

 

“With his own wife,” he said, catching me for a longer kiss. “I’m going to find the nearest registered celebrant and have them brought here by the end of the week.”

 

He reached for a towel and stood up, apparently feeling that there was no time like the present. I lingered behind, up to my chin in the bursting bubbles, trying to process this Kessel Run of a day.

 

It had started with Hux in a drunken stupor and me in bleak despair, and now we were talking weddings like any standard loved-up couple. But I couldn’t forget that something was gravely wrong with this picture. I wasn’t the standard loved-up bride; I was a prisoner here. The groom was a successful man with great prospects – of achieving galactic domination.

 

And the only thing we could agree upon was that we loved each other.

 

Anyway, it didn’t matter. I was stuck here until the baby was born, whether or not I married Hux. At least if I was his wife, he might have more incentive to defend me against the wrath of Snoke, or daddy dearest, or anybody else who thought I was better off in pieces at the bottom of a waste chute. I might even be able to change his mind about the indoctrination centre. If it had taken one day to make him realise that he didn’t want to make my life a misery any more, what could I do in nine months? And surely this act in defiance of his father was a massive step forward.

 

Feeling more optimistic than I had in days, I wrapped myself in a towel and stepped out of the bath.

 

He looked up from one of his comm screens as I entered the room.

 

“The day after tomorrow,” he said, brimming with pep. “That’s when the celebrant can do it. The day after tomorrow, Marillia!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *plays bridal march on kazoo* Better get my hat sorted for the next chapter then...


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A row of hearts for all my reviewers, kudos-givers and readers. Coming to the end of this journey soon - but the sequel (which I keep wanting to call the squee-quel) is in the works. Onwards...

I slept the sleep of the comatose that night, a fifteen hour straight run, from five in the afternoon to the bleep of Hux’s ‘half an hour till you have to be at work’ alarm. Who knew that a fake severe illness, followed by industrial levels of angst, the normal rigours of early pregnancy and the less normal rigours of anal sex would be such an anti-insomniac drug? I guess the pharmacists hadn’t got round to testing that particular combo.

 

I’d been too tired to question Hux about the details of this wedding, and by the time I woke in the morning he was already in uniform, slicking wax through his hair in front of the mirror.

 

“Don’t get up,” he said, glancing at me. “You need to rest. The droid is in guardian mode; I’ve programmed it to watch over you.”

 

Hmm, watch me, more like. But I didn’t want to start the day by breaking the fragile peace treaty between us, so I just nodded.

 

“I’ll organise somebody to come up from the atelier to measure you for a wedding robe,” he said. “The droid will let them in. You will _not_ speak to her, beyond answering any dress-related questions she may have. The droid will contact me immediately if you disobey. Is that understood?”

 

“What’s a dressmaker going to be able to do for me anyway?” I said, unable to keep the sulk out of my voice. “Even if they weren’t loyal to the First Order? Sew me out of here?”

 

“Nothing, of course,” said Hux briskly. “Just a precaution.”

 

He came over to me and bent for a brief but efficient kiss goodbye.

 

“If I’m needed here for any reason, the droid will message me. Obviously you’re locked out of all communications systems. I’ll see you later.” He paused, his General-like demeanour softening a little. “I do love you, you know.”

 

“I know,” I said. “I love you too. Have a good day at the office, darling.”

 

He tapped two gloved fingers against my cheek in admonition of my sarcastic delivery, kissed me again, and left.

 

I lay back down. I should scope out the apartment, look for any tiny gap in Hux’s security measures, try and find the droid’s blind spot, but I just couldn’t be bothered. I was too tired now, and besides, I didn’t want to leave Hux here. If I left, I wanted him to come with me.

 

I didn’t get out of bed until the woman from the atelier showed up, a couple of hours after the droid had brought me a grudging breakfast of cereals with dried fruit and organo-juice. No caffa. Somehow I just didn’t think I could stomach it.

 

I stood in meek silence while she measured me and draped lengths of various fabrics across my semi-clad body. I still had no clothes to wear beyond the bathrobe, so I’d put on one of Hux’s gym singlets and a pair of his shorts. I looked ridiculous, but I didn’t suppose the dressmaker would care.

 

She was obviously curious about me – I imagined the Base gossip grapevine had been on fire over the last couple of days – but she didn’t try to dig, for which I was mildly grateful.

 

Once she had gone, with instructions to use the ivory silk with the Littora lace trim, I spent the rest of my day mooching around the apartment looking for anything to dispel the tedium. Was this going to be my life now? Stuck here with nothing to do and nobody to talk to, apart from the droid, who refused to talk back?

 

I was lying on the couch in a stupor of boredom, staring at the ceiling and trying to see how many patterns I could make to connect the spotlights when there was a delivery at the door.

 

The droid came back in with a glossy brochure, which it placed on the table beside me before reverting to mopping the floors.

 

I picked it up. It was a prospectus for a school, called ‘Elite One’. I didn’t like the look of it from the front cover and, flicking through the pages, I grew to like it less and less. Children boarded there from the age of five until they entered the Academy at seventeen, and learned ‘the skills and disciplines that are paramount to achieving high status in the First Order’. They appeared to be all military, scientific and technological. Cultural life, and that little thing called fun, featured nowhere at all amongst the drill training, weapons familiarisation and leadership camps.

 

I was still thumbing through it with an aghast look on my face when Hux returned.

 

“Ah,” he said, throwing off his coat and sidling up beside me with an arm around my waist. “Elite One. I ordered this a couple of days ago.”

 

“It looks awful,” I said, staring at the image of a skellball team, hair slicked back, identical stances, the First Order insignia on their vests, along with their serial numbers, jaws grimly set.

 

“No it doesn’t,” said Hux testily. “I studied here.”

 

“From the age of five?”

 

“It was established shortly after we made our retreat to the Unknown Regions. I was one of its first pupils. And yes, I was five when I started there.”

 

“Your parents sent you away from home at the age of five?” I said, trying my best to make him see that this was something I would never approve.

 

“In a way, but in another way they didn’t. My mother was a teacher there.”

 

“Oh,” I said. “Oh, OK. That makes more sense. She wouldn’t have been at home anyway. So you were able to stay with her?”

 

“No. She taught in the senior block. I never saw her there until I was thirteen.”

 

“You never saw your mother from the ages of five to thirteen?” I exclaimed.

 

“Of course I did. There were holidays at the end of each quarter. Two weeks each, and a month at summer.”

 

“All the same…you were _five._ Weren’t you terrified?”

 

Hux shrugged. “I don’t remember.”

 

“No, because you’ve blocked out the trauma. I’m not subjecting my child to that.”

 

“Your child, Marillia?” said Hux, on the verge of loss of cool. “I think you’ll find it’s _ours_.”

 

“Exactly, which means I have equal say in his or her education. I can’t agree to sending them away at five.”

 

“All right,” he said at length. “Perhaps they can be a little older.”

 

“Perhaps they can go to a school that teaches normal stuff like creative writing and draughtsmanship and interplanetary relations. And where they can _play_.”

 

“Normal? Superfluous, you mean,” he sneered. “Elite One was the making of me. It taught me strength of character and purpose. Why wouldn’t you want that for our child?”

 

“Plenty of people have those attributes without having to go to a school like that.”

 

“I’d rather not take the chance.”

 

“I’d rather my child was happy, not some war-mongering fuck-up.”

 

Hux in a rage was often difficult to distinguish from Hux in neutral mode, but I’d learned the signs and they were all there.

 

Rather than respond to my challenge, he got up and stalked off to the kitchen to bark some orders at the droid.

 

Perhaps it was a harsh thing to say, but it had needed saying. Hux wanted a carbon copy of himself, and that was exactly what I didn’t want.

 

While he was out of the room, I threw aside the brochure and put my hand on my stomach. It felt no different. It was still possible to pretend it hadn’t happened. But this brochure, this conversation, had made it real to me for the first time. There was a whole new life at stake here, one that would rely on me for nurturing and protection. If I didn’t fight for it, who would?

 

When Hux emerged from the kitchen, he turned on the main comm screen and handed me a keyboard.

 

“We’re going to establish contact with your Resistance friends,” he said curtly. “I’d thought of putting it off until after the wedding, but I’ve decided there’s no point in delaying it.”

 

“I see,” I said. This was the punishment for my last remark.

 

“Do you, Marillia?” he said. “It strikes me that if you don’t want your child to be ‘some war-mongering fuck-up’, we’d better make sure there’s no war to monger. And the fastest route to peace is the achievement of First Order supremacy. You can take the first step towards that right now.”

 

“You’re such a twat,” I muttered, but into my hand, so he didn’t hear me. Lord knew what he’d make me do if he did. Lead a tie-fighter raid on my home town, maybe.

 

“As I’ve said, there are no restrictions on this system. I presume you have contact details for your misguided friends?”

 

“Well, no, I don’t have my address book,” I stalled.

 

“They’ll be in the Institute registry, no doubt,” suggested Hux helpfully/unhelpfully. “Call up the Zyron net ID.”

 

I did as he said, my mind working furiously on the thorny question of how to avoid causing too much damage.

 

The register of faculties appeared on screen. Could I message somebody who wasn’t involved? No, because Hux would blacklist them as Resistance and then they were potentially in trouble. Perhaps one of the First Order secret squirrels? No, they would be registered here. Damn it, there was nothing I could do.

 

With a heavy heart and tears in my eyes, I clicked on Professor Tarkei’s name. If I had to sacrifice anyone, it would be the man most able to withstand the heat – I wouldn’t name my fellow students.

 

Hux, standing behind me, leaning over my shoulder, made a throaty sound of satisfaction.

 

“Tarkei? I know the name. I believe he’s on a list of suspected dissidents. Now, you’re going to message him. What’s your call sign?”

 

“Call sign?” I acted dumb, but internally I was cursing. I’d been hoping I might get away without having to add it to the message, giving Tarkei the clear signal that it wasn’t genuine.

 

“Even the Resistance isn’t that stupid,” said Hux. “Come on. Use your code names, or whatever you have. And if you fake it, I will find out, via Leader Snoke, to whom I will take you directly after this is done.”

 

I took my hands off the keyboard.

 

“I can’t do this,” I said.

 

“Don’t be ridiculous, of course you can.” He was trying to keep his temper; his tone was of long-suffering patience. “It’s nothing. Just a little bit of misinformation that might save the lives of everyone here.”

 

“You’re not going to have the First Order people at Zyron assassinate him?”

 

“I’m not going to do anything,” said Hux, but I knew that he was being disingenuous. Snoke would order whatever action he wanted. “Come on, Marillia. You have to do this. This was the only way I could convince Snoke not to have you killed. You really don’t have a choice.”

 

“Because if I don’t…?”

 

“He _will_ kill you. Come on, now, the call sign.”

 

I opened the message in the way we had agreed before I left Zyron.

 

“Good,” said Hux, patting me on the shoulder. “Now, type this: Weapons base project has been aborted. All personnel transferred to Zeton Theta to await further orders. I expect to be deployed elsewhere. Will update you when possible. There, now you can sign off. Let’s scramble the signal so he can’t know this has come from my personal system. Done. There. That wasn’t so difficult, was it?”

 

I put my shaking hands to my face. No, it wasn’t the kind of message that would cause an immediate disaster. But it would put the Resistance off the Starkiller scent, which could make me responsible for future destruction. My hands felt heavy, as if my wrists couldn’t quite support them. Guilty hands.

 

“You haven’t done anything wrong,” said Hux reassuringly, reading my mind. “You’ve simply lowered the possibility of an X-wing attack here, with all the casualties that would ensue. You are _saving_ people, Marillia.”

 

He put his hands on my shoulders, massaging them. I hunched even tighter.

 

“We ought to go straight down to Snoke,” he said. “Get it over with. Then we can relax for the rest of the evening. The droid’s cooking a special dinner. I’m going to spend my last night as a single man with you – no rowdy behaviour in the Rec Hub for _this_ stag, thank you.”

 

The mental image pulled me out of my horror and made me smile at its unlikelihood.

 

“I can’t imagine you participating in rowdy behaviour at any time,” I said. “Although there is that story about the night before your graduation…”

 

His fingers pinched at my shoulders.

 

“Who told you that?”

 

“Oh,” I said, not wanting to drop Phasma in it. “Just…I don’t know…someone on the Deck…”

 

“The Deck is a hotbed of idle gossip,” said Hux primly. “Perhaps it’s time for some re-training. Make sure everyone’s fully on message.”

 

We were interrupted by the strident bleep of an external communication coming through on the screen.

 

“Who’s this?” said Hux, releasing my shoulders and reaching for a remote control. Then a rather joyless, “Oh.”

 

“Who is it?” I asked, wanting him to click and end the awful ringtone. I hated those things.

 

“Home,” he said. “Now isn’t really a good time…”

 

But he clicked anyway, and the face of a woman with walnut shell skin and iron-grey hair peered at us from immensely far away.

 

“Wil?” she said. “I can’t see you. Is your camera on?”

 

He clicked another button.

 

“Mother,” he said blandly. “How are you? How’s my father?”

 

“Not well,” she said. “Oh! Oh, I see it’s true. The dreadful rumour I’ve heard is true.”

 

Hux pursed his lips. “This is Marillia, mother.”

 

“Hi,” I said, with an awkward wave.

 

“And this is the woman…the one who brought the Base to a standstill? The one you’re supposed to be…involved with.” She might as well have said “enslaved by”. Her tone spoke for her.

 

“This is my fiancée, mother, yes,” said Hux. “It’s all happened quite quickly; I apologise for not telling you sooner. And we’re very busy at the moment, so if I could call you back later…”

 

“Too busy for your own parents? One of whom is currently on his deathbed?”

 

“His deathbed? What are the doctors saying?”

 

“All right, perhaps not his deathbed quite yet. But he really is very ill, Wil, and this news may be the final blow.”

 

“Then perhaps you should keep it from him,” suggested Hux.

 

“I most certainly should. Besides, it should come from you. Who is this woman? I have tried to look into her ancestry and she has no family. No Imperial link at all. How can you consider her suitable?”

 

“She is a brilliant technician, mother, and she…oh, the link is breaking up…I’m losing you…”

 

He clicked the ‘disengage’ button and his mother disappeared with a swooshing sound.

 

“I’ll have to disable the external network for a little while…” he muttered.

 

“That was a lovely welcome into the Hux family,” I remarked, fingering my choker.

 

“Don’t mind her,” said Hux. “Nothing less than a direct descendant of Emperor Palpatine would be good enough for me in her eyes. She’ll come round. Ah. The film.”

 

He was looking at his internal mail, and he clicked on a large file, opening it up in the main screen.

 

“We’ve made a film,” he explained as the file loaded. “For distribution across the Unknown Regions and further. The idea is that we hack into Republican transmissions and it will be shown across the galaxy, eventually. Not yet, though. We don’t want them to know what we’re up to until it’s upon them. You might be able to help us with the hacking…anyway. Take a look.”

 

I watched the screen as numbers flickered, counting down. It was a propaganda piece, bursting with clips of marching Stormtroopers, tie-fighters circling planets, the odd shot of grateful-looking peasants waving First Order flags behind roadside barriers, all set to a rousing, yet chilling, blast of brass and strings. There was one shot of the Knights of Ren, all in black, wielding lightsabers, but I imagined it was a grudging concession on Hux’s part, because the vast majority of the film focused on the military might and power the Order were building. Hux provided an excitable voiceover, reeling off statistics and ideological claptrap, occasionally appearing in person ranting on his platform.

 

The film ended with a giant First Order symbol, surrounded in kaleidoscope style by various stills from the preceding montage.

 

“What do you think?” asked Hux. “I’m pleased with it…it’s very well done.”

 

“Not much about Snoke in there,” I said.

 

“No, he prefers to remain in the shadows.”

 

“I know. You’re the one who has to stick his head over the parapet. When the Republic finally starts listening to the Resistance, you’re the one who’ll get targeted, and he’ll get away.”

 

“When that time comes,” said Hux, fixing me with an intent gaze, “Snoke will run, yes. And I will stand my ground. I’ve always known this, and I can’t wait for it to happen.”

 

“You can’t wait for all out war?”

 

“I can’t wait for victory, and for the galaxy to be mine. Mine and yours,” he amended, putting a finger on my cheek.

 

I watched the last few credits on the film roll away into nothing, along with my future.

 

Whether or not Hux loved me – and I believed he did - he loved the First Order more.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music for the propaganda film = the March from Things To Come by Arthur Bliss https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6t6_piBtLpA. Perfect blend of sinister and triumphalist - very First Order. I daresay John Williams has given the First Order their own fine music, but I haven't listened to the soundtrack yet.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Hux's wedding day! And I reckon he'd look a bit like this amazing fanart: http://unlikelymilliner.tumblr.com/post/139672433833/emperor-hux

I woke in an empty bed, and when I pulled on my robe and went to peer into the living area, the droid almost ran across the room, gesturing me back, back, back.

 

“What? Why?”

 

“The General doesn’t want you to see each other until the ceremony begins,” fretted the droid. “It’s traditional, you know.”

 

“Yeah, I know that…I suppose I didn’t think our circumstances…”

 

“You are restricted to the bedroom and the bathroom. I will bring you breakfast. Your attendant will be here in approximately sixty eight minutes.”

 

“My attendant? Who’s that?”

 

“Captain Phasma. Please go back to the bed and I will serve you breakfast.”

 

About a quarter of an hour later, the droid returned with stewed tea in place of my usual caffa, pancakes with real actual fresh fruit – where had _that_ come from? – organo-juice, oatmeal and about eighty seven different coloured pills.

 

“Erm – what are these for?” I asked, picking up the cup in which they rattled.

 

“Vitamins and nutritional supplements, Miss Rome. The General has been researching your…condition.”

 

I groaned inwardly. This obsession of Hux’s with my pregnancy was likely to get very old very soon, and I hated taking pills.

 

“What’s this one?” I picked up a clear capsule containing a yucky looking brownish substance.

 

“Icewhale oil,” said the droid. “Exceptionally good for development of the brain.”

 

“I bet his mother took it,” I said, popping it into my mouth with a grimace.

 

“Will that be all, Miss Rome?”

 

“Uh huh.”

 

The supplements glared up at me, each with its own special mission. I wondered if any of them was designed to confer First Order-like qualities, and if so, which one? I took the cup and tipped the lot of them into my nightstand drawer.

 

I barely had time to eat and shower before Captain Phasma rolled up with the dress on a hanger and a festive-looking ribbon-tied bag.

 

“Hello,” I said guardedly. The last time we’d met, she’d precipitated my reckless Mach Fever episode with her confession that she’d let slip about the wedding to Snoke. I wondered what she thought – what she’d been told – about subsequent events.

 

She nodded, formal and unfriendly, and put the dress and bag on the bed.

 

“I’m here as your witness,” she said. “For legal purposes.”

 

I let the uncomfortable silence stretch for as long as I could bear, which was about two seconds.

 

“Right,” I said, reaching out to stroke the beaded lace on the shoulders of the dress. “Well, thanks.”

 

“The General asked me,” she said gruffly. “I could hardly refuse.”

 

“But you would have done, if you could?”

 

She sniffed. “I think he’s making a mistake.”

 

_You’re almost certainly right._

 

“I’m sorry you think that.” I sighed. “What’s in the bag?”

 

She waved a hand. “Open it.”

 

I untied the ribbon and brought out some tissue-wrapped packages, all as light as air, so that it was almost possible to believe they were empty.

 

“Oh,” I said, glancing at Phasma as something very delicate and very intimate-looking fell out on to the bed. “Right. I should…probably put these on in the bathroom.”

 

She shrugged and poured herself some cold tea from the pot.

 

The underwear was so fragile and gauzy it was practically made of spider thread. All in one piece, it shimmered over my body, failing to hide anything beneath its transparency. It laced up the front. Easy to remove. I’d wager that had been Hux’s number one priority in making his choice.

 

The uneasiness occasioned by Phasma’s demeanour lightened a little as I imagined Hux’s face when he saw me in this. I pulled on the matching sheeny-shiny stockings and stood in front of the mirror, contorting my body and face into various over-the-top seductive poses until I made myself laugh, and was thus equal to seeing Phasma again.

 

I wrapped my robe around me and returned to the bedroom.

 

“OK, I think I might need your help with the dress,” I said. “I’ve no idea how to get the thing on.”

 

Phasma’s hands were not made for tiny hook-and-eye fastenings, and it took her some time, and quite a lot of swearing, to dress me. The hairdresser appeared before she was done, and took over, to everyone’s relief. Phasma sat herself in a corner and read the First Order daily bulletin while my hair was twisted and twirled and strange cosmetics put on my face. After a final blast of perfume, I was almost ready.

 

“There’s something else in the bag,” said Phasma, putting aside her reading tablet.

 

I reached inside and found a long, slim box. Inside it was an amazing necklace of pearls and diamonds – if they were real, it would have cost a fortune.

 

“You’re meant to put them in her hair,” said Phasma to the stylist. “Then, when that collar thing comes off, she wears it as a necklace.”

 

This was nice to know, even secondhand. I stood still, my skirts swishing slightly around me with each tiny movement, while the stylist fixed the jewels into my extravagantly-coiffed hair.

 

“Lovely,” she said, stepping back. “You do make a beautiful bride.”

 

There was an unspoken _despite everything_ in her tone, amplified by the look she exchanged with Phasma.

 

I felt like somebody else, some wispy alien creature frou-frouing around the place in my weightless attire. Only my extremely heavy hair reminded me that I was human.

 

“Right,” said Phasma, heading for the door. “Better get this over with then.”

 

I followed her through the door, my dress trailing after me. Only now did the occasion switch in my mind from mad drama dress-rehearsal to actual significant life event.

 

I was getting married. I was going to be a wife. I was going to have a husband. How was this ever going to…?

 

Phasma led me into the giant dining/function room. The long table had been pushed to the side. There were flowers – not real ones – in extravagant arrangements at the end of the room, and woven into a kind of metallic archway. The droid obviously had some artistic circuits in its motherboard.

 

Beneath the arch was an official in the basic black of a clerical rating, leavened only by a silk flower buttonhole. Just to the right of him, with his back to me, was Hux, accompanied by a junior officer I didn’t recognise.

 

Phasma cleared her throat, and my view of the back of Hux’s neck, with its precisely cut ginger V at the nape, altered to a view of his profile. His coat – a more decorative dress version of the one he usually wore, with gold-fringed epaulettes and a plethora of varicoloured arm bands – swung as he turned. I focused on the rows and rows of ribbons on his chest, somehow afraid to look at his face, then I cast my eyes to the floor.

 

Music started up, soft but audible. How was I supposed to take this walk? How slowly, what should I do with my shoulders, where should I look?

 

Phasma, apparently keen to get things done, put her arm through mine and strode along as if leading a squadron into battle. I tottered alongside on spindly white heels, fearing for my ankles.

 

But I arrived at the arch intact, drawing up alongside Hux before the music even had a chance to make it to the first double bar line. I risked a sidelong glance at him, and he caught me looking. He ran a gloved finger down my inner arm and across my wrist before taking my hand.

 

“You look beautiful,” he murmured.

 

“Thank you. So do you.”

 

His lips twitched into a momentary smile. It was probably a weird thing to say to a General of the First Order, but for me, it was true.

 

The celebrant coughed, returning our attention to the formal proceedings of the day. We stood together, my hand on Hux’s forearm, his hand on mine, as the ceremonial words commenced.

 

I wasn’t too familiar with First Order marriages, but they seemed to follow the old Imperial format that had been done away with before I was born. There was a long and boring preamble about joining as one in the service of the galaxy and adhering to its glorious values and blah that I didn’t really listen to, too busy trying not to laugh. Solemn occasions always did that to me, and this was more solemn than most.

 

Only when I was called upon to exchange vows did I finally sober up, especially when I saw the look on Hux’s face, which was as stone-cold serious as it was possible to get.

 

Hux was called upon first. He promised to love and protect me, honour and cherish me, in the name of the Order and through whatever trials might befall, until death should sunder us. Hearing him speak the words drove my emotions rapidly from giddy to tearful, and though his voice was steady as he recited the vows, his hand trembled slightly over mine.

 

When my turn came, I was the opposite. My voice faltered and dropped to a whisper, but my grip on him was fierce and tight.

 

The celebrant let us pause for breath and to retrieve command of ourselves.

 

“Do you furthermore pledge that all issue of this union will be brought up in faithful service to the central tenets and beliefs of the First Order?” said the celebrant. The words pierced like icy knives in my heart. Why did this have to be part of the ceremony?

 

I caught my breath while Hux took the vow, then there was a fathoms deep silence while everyone waited for me to follow suit.

 

“Marillia,” prompted Hux softly, his fingers closing around mine.

 

“I…don’t know…if I can,” I mouthed, appealing to him with every fibre of my being. “Do I have to…?”

 

The look on his face was enough to send a fleet of enemy battleships screaming back to base. But this was my child I was throwing into the fire. He would never understand, but I just couldn’t do it.

 

Into the agonising silence crashed the door buzzer, followed by the hurried clanking of the droid as it hurried to answer.

 

“What the…?” said Hux, exasperated, turning to investigate the interruption.

 

Within seconds, Kylo Ren swept into the room, in full cloak-and-helmet mode, his hand in the air.

 

“Why is your comms link switched off?” he said, then he pulled up short and looked long and hard at the pair of us and the floral arch. “Wow. So it was true. Was my invitation lost in the internal mail?”

 

“What do you want?” snapped Hux. “Surely it can wait ten minutes.”

 

“Not really,” said Kylo, and there was a gloating quality to his echoey voice. “Our Leader heard a rumour that you were set on marrying the rebel bitch and sent me up here to stop you making the worst career move since Admiral Motti told Darth Vader he wasn’t scared of him.”

 

“He heard a rumour?” repeated Hux. “From whom?”

 

If Phasma hadn’t been wearing her helmet, I would have bet money on her face being bright red. Phasma to Kylo, Kylo to Snoke… It couldn’t have been more bleeding obvious.

 

“That doesn’t matter,” said Kylo. “What does matter is that Snoke wants to see you, right now, and if you marry this girl, it’s goodbye, General Hux; hello, Wilhuff the sewer cleaner.”

 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Hux, but his voice shook a little. “Snoke wouldn’t…”

 

“Come and ask him yourself,” said Kylo. “He’s waiting for you.”

 

Hux stood with his hands clasped, rubbing them together so the leather of his gloves creaked slightly, staring blankly at Kylo.

 

After a few beats of silence he turned to the celebrant. “Don’t leave,” he said. “I won’t be long.” He put a hand on my waist, as if about to ask me to dance, but instead he bent and whispered an apology in ear. “Wait for me,” he said, before following Kylo Ren out of the room, his bootsteps echoing through the huge almost-empty chamber.

 

“Well, that’s that, then, I assume,” said Phasma. “I might as well go and get some real work done. Tell the General to buzz me if I’m needed.”

 

She hurried in their wake, doubtless keen to make it to the elevator and catch up on Kylo’s gossip. The younger officer made his own awkward apologies and followed her.

 

Only the celebrant and the droid were left.

 

“I’m sorry about this,” I said. “Can I offer you a glass of wine?”

 

The long table, pushed to the side, was laden with all kinds of food and drink – rather too much for such a small gathering really. I didn’t fancy any of it, but the celebrant took a plate and a glass and helped himself, chewing in mournful silence while we awaited Hux’s return.

 

Anxieties crowded in on me, suffocating me. I felt as if I was clinging to a sheer glass cliff above a boiling chasm, and Hux’s love for me was the toehold that kept me from falling. As long as that remained, I could hope. I could hold my own against anything else in his heart – even, I thought, his parents – but not his great Imperial dream.

 

I couldn’t bear to dither around in the vast dining room with the celebrant, so I excused myself and went to sit on the bed, twisting my fingers, tugging at my choker, biting the loose skin around my nails.

 

They were ragged and bleeding by the time Hux returned. He shut himself in the bathroom immediately, forcing me to knock on the door.

 

“Wil? What happened? Are you all right?”

 

There was a sound a bit like a hiccup, followed by a sniff. My throat closed up. He couldn’t actually be…no, Hux would never...

 

I banged more urgently. “Wil, please. Come out. I’m worried about you.”

 

There was a long silence, then a low, shaky, “I’m all right. Go and sit down. I’ll be out soon.”  The last words were gasps, as if his breath had been forcibly snatched away. He was definitely crying.

 

Oh Lord.

 

I went into the living room and watched as the droid advised the celebrant to go home. Hux must have given the order remotely, from the bathroom. Fear, never far down in my emotional mix, shot to the surface like a submerged rubber ball suddenly released. The wedding was off.

 

I picked up the prospectus for Elite One and began folding the pages compulsively, anything to keep my hands busy. In fact, did Hux have any of those cigarettes left over…? But no. Bad for the baby.

 

He emerged about five minutes later, almost vibrating with spectral, pink-eyed woe.

 

I rushed to him, tripping over the hem of my dress, wanting nothing more than to comfort him in his distress, but he held up his hands, shielding himself from me.

 

“Sit down,” he whispered.

 

“Don’t…you’re scaring me,” I said, but I did as I was told. He spent an age just looking at me, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat now and again, before taking off his coat and coming to sit at my side.

 

“Sorry,” he said. “I just needed a moment.”

 

“What happened down there?” I asked, reaching for his hand. This time, he allowed me to take it. He was still wearing his gloves and the leather was a little shock of cold against my skin.

 

“Snoke made his opinions clear,” said Hux. “I can have you, or I can have my career. I can’t have both.”

 

“And you chose your career?” I said, the pit of my stomach falling so far it might never come back up.

 

“Marillia,” he said. He looked at me, biting at his lower lip, clearly in agony.

 

“I always knew, if it came to a straight choice between me and the First Order, I would lose,” I said softly, my mind alive with what might happen next.

 

“No, no,” he said. “You don’t. It’s not like that.”

 

“So…you chose me? You’re quitting your post?”

 

He shook his head. “I refuse to make the choice,” he said.

 

“You told Snoke….?”

 

“No, no, I didn’t. I told him I’d do what he asked of me. But I’m not going to.”

 

“So…?”

 

“Snoke’s objection was an obvious one,” he said, slowly, as if thinking aloud. “That you are not loyal to the First Order. If I married you, even in secret, I betrayed him, and compromised my own position. So there could be no question of going ahead with the wedding. I asked if that would always be the case – if his opinion would change in the event of you switching loyalties. He asked me why I hadn’t sent you to the indoctrination centre already, if that was my aim.”

 

“And what did you say?”

 

“I was left with no recourse but to tell him the truth. I was delaying the indoctrination until after the child was born, since elements of the process can be harmful to an unborn child.”

 

“So he knows about the baby now?”

 

Hux nodded.

 

“And what did he say to that?”

 

“He said it made no difference to his decision.” Hux twitched. I imagined he’d said a good deal more, and probably accompanied it with mind-invasive torture. “It was my own stupid fault for getting you pregnant, essentially.”

 

“So…what was his decision? You can’t marry me, ever? Or can you, after the baby’s born and…” I didn’t want to say the word ‘indoctrination’ in case it sounded as if I was agreeing to it. Much as I thought I might agree to almost anything that would wipe the pain from his eyes.

 

Hux squeezed my fingers, tight enough to cut off my circulation, if I’d cared about trivial things like that, which I didn’t at that moment.

 

He took a deep breath and cupped my face with one hand.

 

“He wants me to kill you.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Scared to post this...

I flinched away from him, but his grip on me was firm and I couldn’t move.

 

“Kill me? And are you…?”

 

“Of course not!” he cried, releasing me to throw up his hands. “What do you think I am?”

 

“I’m sorry. But the First Order is your life. I only know what I _hope_ you are…”

 

“Marillia,” he said, seizing my wrists. “The legal papers might not have been signed, the rings might not have been exchanged, but I made my vows to you, and they are every bit as binding as if the ceremony hadn’t been interrupted. I promised to protect you, and I will never break that promise. All right?”

 

“All right,” I whispered, my heartbeat roaring in my ears. _He isn’t going to kill me._ “But then how…what can we do?”

 

“There’s a shuttle to Ondaiin tomorrow, taking some of the admin staff on leave,” said Hux. “You’re going to take that shuttle.”

 

“Where’s Ondaiin?”

 

“It’s where my parents live. They’ll send someone to pick you up from the spaceport and they’ll take care of you and the baby until I…until we don’t have to worry about Snoke any more.”

 

“I have to stay with your parents?” I said, not enamoured of the idea. “They won’t want me.”

 

“What they want isn’t important,” said Hux. “My mother will do it for me, and for her grandchild. My father is too ill to object. It will mean living in hiding for some time – perhaps two or three years. But Snoke won’t be around forever.”

 

“You mean you’re planning some kind of coup?”

 

“Please don’t ask me to state it explicitly. It’s better that I keep the thought on the very edges of my consciousness – you’ve been in Snoke’s presence. You can understand what I mean.”

 

“Yes,” I said. “I think I can.”

 

“And when that time is past,” continued Hux, “and things are exactly as they should be, then we can be together without fear and this wedding ceremony will be taken up where it was left off. Do you trust me?”

 

“I trust you,” I said. “But your parents…”

 

“Whatever you think of them, they have no love for Snoke or the Knights of Ren. They won’t do them any favours, ever, believe me.”

 

“OK,” I said, still uncertain. “But Snoke will know you haven’t killed me, won’t he?”

 

“Let me take care of that,” said Hux. “I’m going to get you Stormtrooper armour from the stores – you’ll swap with one of the troops staffing the shuttle.”

 

“Won’t Snoke need to see a body?” I persisted.

 

“I’ve told you – I’ll take care of it.”

 

“What if he reads your mind and knows what you’ve done?”

 

“I’m harder to read than Snoke realises,” said Hux. “I’ve learned, over the years, how to get myself into a kind of fugue state when I’m around Force sensitives. It’s taken a decade of practice, but I’m pretty good at it now. Snoke only sees what I want him to see.”

 

I let out a sigh of deep relief. “That’s very good to know,” I said. “I’d be permanently terrified if you hadn’t told me.”

 

“You don’t need to worry about me,” he said, raising my knuckles to his lips and kissing them. “But I’m glad you do.”

 

“There’s nowhere else I could go?” I asked, in a last-ditch bid to get myself a less bleak immediate future.

 

Hux shook his head. “I need to know that you’re safe. Besides, if you stay with my parents, I can see you from time to time, when I take leave.”

 

“Oh, yes, I suppose so,” I said. My prospects were suddenly bearable. “How often do you take leave?”

 

“Three times a year.”

 

Three times a year. It was better than never. And being walled up alive with the hatchet faced Hux matriarch was marginally better than death. I’d have the baby for company, at least. Though Mrs Hux would probably have it wearing babygros printed with First Order symbols.

 

I tried to imagine my new life, hidden in some basement in the Hux compound, crossing off calendar days until he came to me. But what if he didn’t come to me? What if Snoke killed him, or the Resistance attacked the Base or…? Lord, it wasn’t going to be easy. And I would fight the Huxes tooth and nail over the baby’s future. This young scion of the family would attend Elite One over my dead body. It would probably come to that, too.

 

But, whichever way I looked at it, this was my only option. I was going to have to take it.

 

“So…tomorrow?” I said.

 

“The shuttle leaves at ten ten,” said Hux. “We have until then.”

 

I ran a finger over his wrist and up his sleeve, slid my hand on to his shoulder, let my fingertips creep to the back of his neck and pulled his face closer to mine.

 

“Will you take me to bed?”

 

He fixed his lips on mine, hungry and thirsty for kissing. Still joined, tongues deep, he bundled me up and lifted me, carrying me to the bedroom in my wedding dress, just as if nothing had happened to prevent the marriage.

 

By some kind of mute agreement, we acted out a wedding night free of our real-life impediments, colluding in the fantasy of happy-ever-after, for the few hours we had left.

 

We peeled off our ceremonial finery layer by layer, delighting in every new discovery as if we were seeing each other for the first time. It felt like a renewal; after all the ambivalence and mistrust, we knew at last that we were meant to be together. The vows had explicated something we understood on the most profound level – that we loved one another, and always would. To our passion we had added commitment; the difference it made was communicated by kiss, by touch, by all the pleasure we gave and took.

 

Neither of us wanted to waste a precious minute of the time we had left in sleep. Although now and again we succumbed to exhausted dozing, we spent the dark hours awake and aware of each other, always joined in some way, even if only by the crook of our fingers while one of us sat up to take a mouthful of water. Skin to skin, mouth to mouth, body to soul, we were one flesh.

 

I had never hated the first signs of sunrise before, but now I did, wholeheartedly.

 

We showered together, standing underneath the spray wrapped up in each other. Rain falling on us. When would the storm pass?

 

“Two or three years?” I said, looking up at his wet face, drops of water on the ends of his pale eyelashes.

 

“At the most,” he promised, tightening his embrace.

 

After we had breakfasted and dressed, he told me to wait in the living area.

 

“I’ll bring the Stormtrooper armour to you,” he said. “Don’t worry if I take a little while, or if I have to send a droid with it. I’m expecting the Deck to be very busy this morning.”

 

“So I’ll see you soon?”

 

He kissed me a long reassurance.

 

“Soon,” he said, then he pulled on his gloves and boots and left.

 

I sat on the edge of the sofa, fidgeting with the items on the caffa table, watching the droid at its household tasks. Goodbye, droid.

 

My mind turned alternatives around and around. Was there any way to avoid ending up in the cold comfort of the senior Hux home? Was there any way I could protect my child from their influence? Would I really have to send them to that hideous school? I tried every angle, but nothing presented itself. If I wanted Hux in my life, as my lover and my child’s father, there was no other option.

 

About an hour later, the buzzer sounded, loudly.

 

Who was this? Not Hux, obviously.

 

The droid went to answer it, and after a few moments of enthusiastic-sounding conversation admitted a Stormtrooper in flight uniform.

 

“Come with me,” she said, and I leapt up. This was probably the Stormtrooper I would be replacing on the shuttle flight.

 

“Couldn’t the General get away?” I asked, following her out of the apartment. Goodbye, apartment.

 

She shook her head briefly, led me into a utility cupboard by the elevator shaft, and tipped out the contents of her large holdall on to the floor outside Hux’s door.

 

“Put it on,” she said. “Quickly.”

 

I was confused as to why we couldn’t have done it in the apartment, and something about her voice rang a bell in my head too, but I did as she said, remembering from our tie-fighter flight how it was done.

 

Oh. Our tie-fighter flight. I thought about it, as I pulled on the tight outfit and fixed the breathing apparatus to my face. That night had been all about getting away from him. Now I only wanted to know that I would see him again. I hoped I wouldn’t be called upon to actually fly the shuttle. Surely Hux wouldn’t have arranged for that?

 

Trussed up in my flightsuit, I stepped into the elevator with my escort. We stood in tense silence as the lift descended, down past the senior and lower decks, into the hangars.

 

“Is the General in the hangar?” I asked. Surely he wasn’t going to let me leave without a final goodbye?

 

“I hope not,” she said, oddly. The doors slid open on to the vast flight deck. At the end of a distant walkway I could see a group of people clustered around a small shuttle craft. They were First Order operatives, dressed for leisure, off on a vacation. Two or three Stormtroopers, in the standard white battle armour, checked off their ID and ushered them aboard.

 

I looked around for any sign of Hux, finding none.

 

“Can you contact the General?” I asked, more urgently, as the Stormtrooper walked me briskly across the vast space. “Is he stuck in a meeting or something?”

 

But she didn’t hear me, unsurprisingly, given the apocalyptic noise levels. We were halfway across the deck, with still some several hundred yards to go before we reached the shuttle, when I saw a doorway open and a familiar tall black-clad figure emerge.

 

“Oh, it’s him,” I said, raising my hand to wave at him, but the Stormtrooper grabbed my arm urgently and began to drag me away from the shuttle, in a different direction.

 

“Stop!” I said, looking back at Hux, wishing I was close enough to read his expression. He wasn’t looking our way. He ran towards the shuttle, shouting something into his wrist comm. “What are you…what?”

 

She pulled me up a mobile stairway.

 

“This isn’t…this is a tie-fighter. What’s happening?”

 

She pushed me hard into the cabin so that I fell unceremoniously into the bucket seat. I scrambled out and went back to the doorway.

 

Hux was at the shuttle, shouting at the Stormtroopers. He grabbed hold of one of them, marching them off somewhere. They disappeared from sight, and I tried to run back down the stairs after them, but my Stormtrooper escort hauled me back in with her arm braced under my ribs. Whoever she was, she was a lot stronger than me.

 

“Tell me what’s going on,” I pleaded.

 

“I’m saving your fucking life, Marillia, what do you think?” she snapped, and now I recognised the voice.

 

“Tessia!”

 

“No time for chat,” she said. “We have to get out of here before somebody clocks us. I don’t know if you can fly one of these things, but I figure with your brains you have to have some idea what these buttons do…”

 

“Yes,” I said.

 

“Quick then,” she cried. “Or we’re dead.”

 

There was a clatter of armoured feet on the mobile staircase outside and a quick blast of gunfire.

 

“Shit.” Tessia managed to get the door shut before the next hail of blaster fire was unleashed.

 

I took her point and set my mind at once to recalling the exact sequence I’d seen Hux use. I could see his fingers on the controls as I replicated his moves, and I felt a molten agony in the pit of my stomach.

 

This was not his plan. I was running away from him, without even knowing it, and it didn’t feel like liberation. It felt like self-immolation.

 

But there was no turning back. I flicked the switches and the fighter rose, bumpily but in the right direction, edging out of port with no substantial blaster damage to the shell.

 

As it shot, too fast, into the safety of space, something glanced off the craft’s left wing. Tessia managed to focus the radar screen, identifying the source of the attack. It wasn’t an attack. It was a body – a human body – floating in the air as if swimming in it. But she – it was a woman, from the traces we picked up on screen – wasn’t swimming. She was dead.

 

“What the hell?” cried a traumatised Tessia. “Why are they firing corpses at us? Can we jump into hyperspeed yet? Please jump to hyperspeed.”

 

I checked – we weren’t quite there. I couldn’t answer her. I couldn’t speak yet. I could barely breathe through the burning pain in my chest. _Turn back, turn back_ , screamed every cell in my body, but it wasn’t possible. It would never be possible.

 

I caught one last glimpse of Starkiller in the rear view screen. Not far from our port, an airlock was closing, slowly.

 

Bile rose from my stomach, threatening to spew into my breathing tube, as I realised what had happened. The dead woman was my substitute. Hux had pushed her through the airlock, so Snoke would believe he had killed me. He had murdered an innocent person, in cold blood, for my sake, and that of my unborn child.

 

I pulled the lever and prepared for the thrust of hyperspeed to crush me back into my seat. We shot through a corridor of silver-streaked black, fighting and gasping for breath until our lungs acclimatised and allowed us to use them again for speech.

 

“That body,” I said. “That woman. Hux killed her in my place.”

 

Tessia turned her visor in my direction. I guessed she was staring at me.

 

“Why would he do that? I mean, he can be cruel, but that’s pure vicious spite.”

 

“No. You don’t understand. Did you think he was going to kill me?”

 

She nodded. “Well, he was, wasn’t he? Snoke ordered it. Phasma told me all about it – she called me up to her chambers last night, got pissed out of her mind and told me everything that had happened. Needed to get it off her chest, I think - she felt awful, actually. Felt guilty, responsible for it. I think she’d want you to know that she never meant for you to be sentenced to death. She just couldn’t resist telling Kylo Ren about the wedding.”

 

“And the consequences of that never occurred to her?” I said, not particularly in the mood to forgive anybody for any of it.

 

“She’d do anything for that jerk’s attention,” said Tessia. “But she didn’t mean any harm. She liked you – despite everything – and she counts Hux as a good friend.”

 

“Not any more,” I predicted bitterly. “I don’t think he’ll forgive her for this.”

 

Tessia was silent for a moment. “So you don’t think he would have done it?”

 

“I know he wouldn’t have. He meant to put me on a shuttle to Ondaiin, in Stormtrooper armour. I thought you were…I thought that’s what you were doing…oh.” I clutched at my helmet, feeling the warm steam of my tears inside it.

 

“He was going to fake your death?”

 

“Yeah,” I said, choking. “But I didn’t know he was going to kill somebody in my place. I didn’t know that and I wouldn’t have…” I don’t know. Would I have let him? Just so I could live, just so I could keep my chance of being with him? The thought was too alienating. I didn’t want to live with that guilt, but apparently, I was going to have to.

 

“Shit,” said Tessia. “I’ve fucked all this up. You really love him?”

 

I waited until I could say the word. It took a long time.

 

“Yes,” I said. _I love a murderer_.

 

“Oh, shit,” she repeated. “I thought he was just obsessed with you, and you were going along with it because you had no choice. I mean, Phasma totally gave me that impression.”

 

“Phasma didn’t really know,” I said. “Nobody knew what was really going on but me and him.”

 

Tessia was soberly silent for a long time. I used the pause to try and clear my eyes. I didn’t have time for grief, not until we were safe from pursuit.

 

“Do you think you’ll be able to forgive me?” she said, subdued. “Fucking hell. I do one good thing in my life and it turns out like this.”

 

“Oh, Tessia,” I said. “There’s nothing to forgive. You’ve done a good thing. It might turn out to be the best thing. In fact, it almost certainly will.”

 

The baby. The child would never have to go to Elite One, or listen to crappy First Order propaganda. I could find a good place for us, bring him or her up away from all the toxic madness that had warped Hux into the man he was.

 

“Well, thank fuck for that,” she said. “We’ll have to leave the galaxy, of course. There’s every chance they’ll find us otherwise – in fact, I wouldn’t put it past Hux to have put some kind of tracker on you. Has he given you any special gifts lately – jewellery, comms stuff?”

 

“A necklace,” I said.

 

“Yeah, that’ll have some kind of GPS thing in it, I guarantee. Right, well, we won’t have enough fuel to get out of the galaxy in this heap, but the Solon Rim is pretty lawless. If we crash-land there, we can get a shuttle anywhere we like for the right price, no papers needed, no questions asked. Long live the New Republic – it wouldn’t be possible under the First Order, that’s for sure.”

 

“So he kept telling me,” I said, smiling faintly around my breathing tube.

 

“But we aren’t under the First Order any more, baby,” she said. “We’re free citizens of the universe, and we can go wherever we like. The future is what we make of it.”

 

She was so positively, wonderfully right that my crushed spirits revived just an iota. The future would be what I made of it. And if, one day, the news came through that Snoke was gone, or the First Order had broken up, I would tear up that future, take my child and go and find him.

 

One day, somehow, even if only in death, we would be together.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credits roll, to the strains of Send His Love To Me by P J Harvey. Thanks (and apologies!) to all readers - sequel is coming soon...


End file.
